


the summer bride

by bukkunkun



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Blood and Gore, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Tale Elements, Knights - Freeform, Light Angst, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, THE REST TO FOLLOW HAHAHA, honestly i don't know where this fic is headed, maybe there is nsfw im not sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-09-08 09:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8838700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: Summer is gone, and the king wants it back.His knight goes off-track with his mission, thanks to the fairy that stole summer. A slightly messy Beauty and the Beast/Crane Wife/Grimm Fairy Tale/Among Other High Fantasy Shit fusion AU I came up with world building in no joke, 15 minutes.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> sO FUCKING,, , ,, , HECK, ,,,, , ,THE KAZAKH HERO STEALING AWAY THE RUSSIAN FAIRY,, , ,,, , HOW COULD I NOT??? ? ??? ?? ? ?
> 
> AND THEN BEKA'S SP OUTFIT IS PRINCELY WHILE JJ PRESENTS HIS GENDER AS ROYALTY LIKE??? ?? ? HOW COULD I NOT
> 
> AND THEN PPL WERE ASKING FOR SLOW BURN SO??? ?? ? ?SOMEHOW I MANAGED??? ?? ? ?? ?? T A K E TH IS OFF M Y H AN D S
> 
> screaming aside, a lot of the fairy tale shit that you will see here is actually Just Bukkun Making Fancy Rules For Fairy Tales so just take them all with grains of salt. Like a whole ocean's worth. idfk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> general overhaul of story in celebration of phichit's birthday, and it's been weeks since YOICONPH that I forgot to upload the whole thing, lol.
> 
> Here's the entire con-version of the story, beta-d, edited, and minus the jj/yuri subplot!

It was the middle of April, and the snow continued to fall. Summer had not come for them, and someone had to bring it back.

“Spring is dead and summer has left us.” The gruff voice of a wall soldier reached his ears, and Captain Otabek Altin of the Royal Guard turned to look at a gaggle of soldiers huddled together and murmuring darkly as the whole room tittered with nervous energy at the summons of their king. “The spirits bring upon us their ire; we’ve stopped believing in them long enough.”

“You still believe in those stories?” a younger man snorted, earning him a hard smack up the back of his head. “They’re fairy tales, old man. They aren’t _real_.”

“You see, right there,” the old man said, waving his bony finger at the young man. “That is the kind of heart that will get you killed. The winter has overstayed its welcome, and you had better pray to its good graces to spare you, despite that blasphemous mouth of yours.”

Otabek shook his head, and moved to stand by the wall of the hall, nursing a goblet of ale in his hands that he had not touched the whole evening. He settled for watching the flames in the hearth in the middle of the room, only half-listening, until he heard of his king’s arrival. He stood up straight as King Jean-Jacques Leroy entered, bowing respectfully as the king was announced, and his speech began.

The night was slow, freezing and exhausting, and Otabek simply stood there, waiting for him to finish, when he jumped at the mention of fairies.

“Summer has left us because the spirits have taken it from us. Fairies, who govern the very movement of the seasons itself, have decided to not allow us this privilege to enjoy.” The king’s eyes surveyed his soldiers, his advisers, and he frowned deeply. “People are dying,” King Leroy’s declared, his voice echoing off stone walls in a hall of unwilling knights. “I will not stand to let them die like this. Will no one take my command?”

Otabek knew all too well how the winter took, and took, and took. He had seen many animals simply _freeze_ in the frigid nights, he had watched people’s fingers fall off at the sheer cold.

He’d seen someone precious to him _die_ in the cold.

Not a single soul moved. Not the proudest soldier in the army, not the craftiest master of whispers of Lord Feltsman’s armoury. No one would do _anything_.

And then he remembered his hometown, a little village ravaged by bandits, by the elements, and by the fae themselves, and he knew he could do _something_.

Otabek pushed himself off the wall, silencing the hall that had burst into murmurs he did not notice, and approached his king, pride in the man’s eyes as he emptied his goblet of ale into the fire.The fire roared suddenly, flaring up beside him, warming his cold skin.

“I will, Your Majesty,” he said, meeting Leroy’s eye. “Command me.”


	2. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (a complete story overhaul. excuse the mess.)

The stables were empty at this time in the earliest hour of dawn—not even the stable hands were awake, and in the coldness of their overdue winter, Otabek didn’t expect much of them, or of _anyone_ who could possibly be awake at this hour.

Yet, as he approached the doorway, he watched a shadow descend from the top spires of the castle, and he sighed softly, shaking his head slightly as he pressed on across the snow on wet boots and a thick pelt cloak to shield him from the winter.

“Altin, you said?” Like a cat, the redhead woman curled into a relaxed position above the wall separating the stables from the elements. She was too out of place as an assassin in a too-brightly-smiling king’s court, he thought, and she cocked her head at him. “I thought that name was dead.”

He ignored the sound of her taunting voice, ignored the way she leaned on the top of the slim wall separating the stables from the castle. “Still.” She continued, sighing as she looked up at the violet sky high above them. “You really think our King’s doing us right by sending you out?”

“I do what he tells me,” the knight replied, and she huffed. “And I asked him to.”

“ _Horseshit_ ,” she swore in their shared mother tongue, “Otabek Altin, hero of the wilds. _Captain_ of the Royal Guard. Chasing after _fairy tales_.”

“Can you bring the summer back, then?” He replied flatly, and he watched her turn to grin down at him. “Mila Babicheva, rose-painter?”

Mila smiled at him sharply. “I’ll be coming after you if you take too long.”

Otabek lowered his head simply. “I will be back soon.”

He headed to the horse at the farthest end of the stable, standing peacefully still in its stall as he approached, dark black like his hair. It, too, was bunched up in warm furs and standing next to a softly-crackling fire in an iron furnace made by Otabek’s own hand. Mila watched him fix the saddle and his bags to his horse quietly, before getting on, not a single hint of resistance and friction between master and ride. She gave him a mock salute, and with a small nod, he galloped away into the coldness of the winter, and into the forest beyond.

* * *

_“Find the fairy that stole Summer, and bring them to me. The kingdom is counting on you.”_

He knew it was a bit much, but a lot of people depended on him—Otabek Altin, the last knight of a bloodline of knights from a nameless village in the thick of the forest. He was their hero, and though the spread of his name was great, with it came unsavoury attention.

So he had, essentially, very little to lose, finding this fairy who had stolen summer from them. He travelled for a long time, across hail, and snow and fog, until he came to his home.

His hometown, nameless, with a population of a handful, welcomed him warmly. His hometown, miles away from the castle town and other civilisation, the closest to the spirits. It would be the most logical place to start, but he also hadn't returned home in months now. As he arrived at the tiny town’s entrance he was already met with cheering children and delighted adults, and he nodded at them respectfully as he came to a stop at the centre square, already immediately thronged by people who wanted to see him. He handed his bag of rations to the mayor—they were for _them_ , not him—and with a few polite words of thanks, headed off to his old house to rest until the sun was out of the sky.

In the middle of the night, he left his house with his armour and weapons replaced by fur coats and warm mittens, bundled up with two scarves around his neck, and offerings in each of his hands.

In war, you bring knives and the heads of their fallen enemies. In bargaining, you brought offerings of peace.

Otabek brought with him the local baker’s not-so-stellar piroshki, a finely-crafted porcelain doll of a tiger from the toy maker, and his mother’s old wedding ring.

He walked on into the forest, alone, unseen but not unfelt, worried eyes watching his back with every step he made, until the lights of his hometown were but specks in the distance, and the moon lit his way. The path was old, overgrown with vines and roots of hibernating trees, but it had always been like that when he was a child. The meandering of the trees, and the roughness of the path were like an old friend to him, and he found himself smiling despite the effort, and the cold that nipped at his skin.

He left his horse back at home, where he could afford warmth and some well-deserved rest. The fae tended to favour animals more than humans, but had they seen one under service to a human, no matter how happy it was to be there, he would incur their wrath. Maybe they would even spirit his horse away.

Otabek never saw the need to name his horse; they had never needed verbal communication after he earned his trust. He hadn’t broken him, as he had never tried to knock Otabek off his back. Perhaps that was enough to appease the fairy when it came to his use of animals, if he was asked.

Soon he found himself in a thicket he used to call his hiding-hole when he was a child, and he decided to settle down there, sitting down quietly on a familiar patch of moss in front of a huge oak tree, his offerings in his hand warmed by the freshly-baked piroshki. He shuffled back to lean against the trunk, and watched the snow gracefully flutter to the ground in beautiful, silent peace. He shivered slightly, and pulled his coat closer to himself.

The winter was unforgiving, he thought, as he gathered himself together. Summer could not come any later than this.

Otabek thought back to the King’s seal on his armour in a corner of his childhood home, resting atop a rocking-chair that used to be his mother’s favourite.

He could still hear her voice in his head:

_If I was you, Beka, I would not do anything to provoke the spirits._

He shut his eyes, leaning back in his seat as he evened out his breathing.

_I would not invite them to talk with me, or communicate with them in any way._

He relaxed into the trunk of the tree behind him.

_And most importantly, Beka, I would not be afraid._

“Do not be afraid,” he echoed his mother’s voice in his head, “Do not be afraid.”

He sat back there for what felt like hours, the snow biting at his bones, cold and wet and piercing, but he remained, calm, steadily breathing— _unafraid_.

High above his head the moon rolled by, the stars dancing in its wake, and he waited along, eyes unseeing of the swirl of the cosmos in the sky, until the wee hours of the evening, crawling into the start of the dawn.

“I greet you in reverence, and I avert my eyes from your grace.” He said slowly, remembering how the words tumbled out of his mouth, childish and uncomprehending, but now, the weight of his words carried with it the weight of the whole kingdom’s hopes.

He had felt the fairy’s presence before he heard the flutter of wings. It was warm, bright and welcoming like the sun that all people had grown to miss with the overstayed welcome of snow. He did not open his eyes, he did not move, and he simply held still, hands splayed on his knees to offer the fairy his village’s offerings.

The warmth grew closer, and he could not help the involuntary sigh of relief at the approaching warmth of the summer sun the mischievous little thing stole away. Underneath his folded legs he could feel the snow melting, wetting his trousers and boots, but he did not mind. He did not mind the growth of summertime flowers twining around his legs, brushing his damp skin.

“Knight.”

The voice was small, gentle, and Otabek thought he was listening to an angel speak.

“Fairy.” He replied politely, eyes still shut, but he could feel the pull of curiosity, enhanced by the fairy, no doubt, to goad him into opening his eyes. It was dangerous, he knew, he should have gone with a blindfold as the village mayor had told him, but that would lull _him_ into a false sense of security, rather than the fairy.

“Will you not open your eyes?”

“Not until you accept what I have to offer.” Otabek lifted his hands, showing the fairy the bag of piroshki, the porcelain tiger, and the wedding ring around his smallest finger, hanging down and away from sight of the fairy. “They are not riches, they are not priceless,”

“But they are not worthless,” the fairy replied, and the bag of piroshki was gone from Otabek’s hands.

Yet he will not open his eyes, not until the last of them were gone.

“Piroshki of a lonely old man who misses his grandson in the castle town.” Otabek had heard from his mother that fae could read history in the touch of an object, but to hear it like this made his heart jump in surprise.

The tiger was next to go, leaving Otabek’s hand hanging awkwardly in the air, the weight of the porcelain suddenly relinquished from it.

“A fantastic creature from the East only seen in picture books, a gift meant for a young boy long dead.”

Otabek fought the wince that threatened to show. No one but him and the toy maker knew his son was dead.

“Did it come as a shock to you?” the fairy’s voice had amusement in it, and he could feel their hand, warm and soft with the touch of a summer’s breeze, brush against his own, fingers reaching for the wedding ring he had hanging from his pinky finger.

“Yes.”

_I would not lie to the spirits, for they know everything._

The fairy hummed, and slipped the finger off Otabek’s hand, and only then did he open his eyes to trap him there, clenching his hand into a tight fist as a golden chain fell on his palm.

 _And then?_ He had asked, a little boy of 7, eyes wide with wonder, and his mother’s laughter still reverberated so clearly in the echoes of memory.

_I would not let them go, my darling Beka, and I would not leave anything of them behind._

The last gift was always the most precious to a man, and should the last gift be taken last, allows a man to catch a spirit right before it flutters away. Like a chain that binds them together, the sentimentality of the memories binding the last gift to the offerer would anchor the fairy to him until he would let it go.

The first thing he saw was the most beautiful pair of eyes he had ever seen. They shone like cut glass, sparkling off the light that radiated off peach-warm skin, soft like bruising, ripe fruit. Lips, full and angelic, parted in a snarling gasp, and the fairy shot back, fury flaring in his eyes.

His golden hair, long and glimmering like spun gold, tumbled in beautiful waves down until his waist, yet Otabek could see a braid behind his ears, underneath vines of evergreen leaves and blossoming white flowers. He tried to throw the ring away, but it would not come off his hand, firmly stuck to his palm and _burning_ , and he hissed at Otabek as the knight met eyes with him.

“Fairy.” He breathed, eyes widening.

He was ethereal in the way he looked, beautiful in every way, godly beings made by a god who loved man much less than everything else in the world, and yet in the way the fairy glowered at him, struggling against the golden chains binding his wrists ankles together to the chain in Otabek’s hand, he thought he was something completely different.

“ _Knight_.” He hissed, and where beauty and fury converged, Otabek saw something beyond an ethereal spirit of beauty and spring.

He looked back at a soldier, fighting for freedom, and he saw himself mirrored in those angry eyes, and he forgot about his King, or the assassin after him, or the kingdom under the snow.

Otabek uncoiled his hand, holding his palm out at the fairy, and let him go.


	3. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But you set me free,” he replied, and then squinted at him. “You didn’t want to let me go.” His tone was matter-of-factly, soft yet accusatory, scandal low in his voice. 
> 
> His mother would not have, Otabek thought, but he would have. 
> 
> “I did.” he said.
> 
> The fairy’s expression wrinkled. 
> 
> “You lie.”
> 
> He did not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS THE SLOWEST THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN ~~akshely nah but u get the deal~~ UGH, 
> 
> hilariously this fic still is going nowhere and i already hate myself
> 
> anyway :'^) about that episode 11 huh :'^)
> 
>  
> 
> ~~davai jj huhu i love you so much~~

The bewilderment was mutual. Otabek watched, eyes wide, as the fairy gaped at the fallen chains, and then at him, and then wasted no more moments to hurry off, wings fluttering like the wind itself was carrying him back, and the knight could only watch him as he left—

When suddenly he was jerked forward, and dragged unceremoniously forward, after the fairy.

Otabek grit his teeth, trying to steady himself as he tumbled over roots and twigs and leaves and branches and flowers, pain flaring across his body from all places, but he shut his eyes and tucked his arms and legs in to minimise the damage made by his tumble through the forest. When he broke free of the roots he realised he was being dragged along grass, and he could hear the sound of calm-flowing water beyond the rustle of grass around him. Otabek lifted his head to see flowers growing and dying ahead of him, marking a path that headed towards a massive willow tree. Just beyond him, he spied the glimmer of a golden chain, and the glow of the fairy that had dragged him along.

He relaxed now, letting the fairy, still his captive by all rights, pull him to his home, and when Otabek came to a stop, he realised he was at the foot of the willow tree, looking up at the gently swishing lavender-coloured vines hanging from its branches.

He sat up slowly, inspecting his surroundings, and he realised the tree was on top of a gently-sloping hill, with a creek to the west of the hill. To the east was the sun, unmoving, stuck in time. Around them, were other rolling hills in the distance, soft green meadows dotted with beautiful wildflowers and innocent, youthful spring. Further away from that, right at the edge of the horizon, was the dark evergreen forest they came from.

So _this_ was where summer had been trapped.

It’d been ages since he saw something as peaceful as this.

“What are you doing here?” the fairy hissed, and Otabek turned around to see the blond fairy descending from the higher branches of the willow tree, the wispy, willowy translucent cloth of his clothes catching on small twigs, but not once tearing, smoothly gliding over them like water or smoke.

“You brought me here.” Otabek said, and the fairy looked down at his hand, where the ring still was, a gold chain still hanging from his wrists. The blond gaped at him, and stepped away from him.

“But you set me free,” he replied, and then squinted at him. “You didn’t want to let me go.” His tone was matter-of-factly, soft yet accusatory, scandal low in his voice.

His mother would not have, Otabek thought, but he would have.

“I did.” he said.

The fairy’s expression wrinkled.

“You lie.”

He did not.

“My name is Otabek Altin.” He said instead, and the fairy eyed him warily.

“You are a fool for giving me your name.”

If he was a fool for giving his full name, the fairy, then, would be an even bigger fool to take the ring.

“My people are in need of summer, fairy.” he replied evenly. “That is all I ask of you.”

The blond regarded him for a long moment, before scoffing. “You do not even give your prize a name. Humans really _are_ cruel.”

Otabek blinked at the blond, and the fairy crossed his arms, cocking his head at him. “You know how to catch a fairy, yet you do not know what to do with him afterwards.” He scoffed, smirking. “All fae do not bear names. And those that do,”

He stopped there, pursing his lips, and Otabek knew the rest of the story.

“Yuri.” he replied instead, and the blond looked at him. “Yuri.” he repeated, “You remind me of a boy I knew a long time ago.” He said.

“Why bother explaining that to me?” Yuri scoffed, yet he continued.

“He had a head of gold and eyes of cut glass, and he died of the cold of winter at fifteen.” He explained, and the fairy blinked at him, eyes wide. “He loved the summer and his grandfather, and the work at the castle town was never enough.”

“Yet the soldier keeps on fighting,” the blond fairy replied, and Otabek paused at his odd choice of words. Yuri lowered his head, pointedly keeping his gaze away from the man. “What do you want me to do about the summer?”

“Do you know where it went?” He asked, and Yuri snorted, gesturing at the sun, stock-still in the sky.

“Over there. It came along with me when I told it to, so don’t you go telling people I stole it.”

Otabek did a double-take, and looked back from the sun to Yuri.

“Why did you take it with you?”

Yuri turned away from him, and flew up to the top branches once more, ending their conversation. Otabek watched him go, blinking, but eventually he lowered his head, shucking off his coat and cloak to welcome the warmth the rest of the kingdom missed so dearly. He wallowed in it for a while under the willow tree, sighing contentedly as he watched the flowers sway, and the summertime insects buzz around him. Up top, he could hear Yuri begin to sing into the breeze, and he shut his eyes, eventually falling asleep to the sound of angels singing.

* * *

Later on, hunger woke him up. The sun was still in its exact same place in the sky, and beyond the idyllic scenery of rolling hills, the frozen evergreens loomed in the distance, a constant, pressing reminder of the mission King Leroy had given him.

Otabek sat up, stretching out well-rested muscles grateful for the warmth around him, and he got up to head to the creek. He could feel the tug of the golden chain on his hand where they had landed before, so he carefully tried not to pull on them too much, finding a spot at the creek where the pulling sensation was at its weakest.

He spotted Yuri still sitting at the topmost branches of the tree, unable to fly away, pointedly avoiding his gaze. Otabek ventured, if he turned away from Yuri, the blond would look back at him again.

So he did, turning his eyes to the creek where he saw different fish swimming along its waters, some of them turning and stopping to look at him, before continuing on their merry way.

In the world of the spirits, life was sacred, yet death was cheap. You asked to take a life, and they will give another in exchange.

“I am a mortal who needs life,” he said carefully to the water, flatly, not betraying any form of need in his voice. “May I take one for my own?”

There was a moment’s hesitation, a deliberate consideration of his request, before a healthy-looking fish surfaced, calm and still, willing to be taken. Otabek nodded his thanks and scooped the fish up, heading back to the tree to cut its head off to quickly end its misery. From then on he started himself a fire, and then busied himself with preparing the fish and drying out his coat and cloak, all the while only mildly aware of the fairy watching him from above. After eating he simply sat and waited again, and he knew it would only be a matter of time for Yuri to come back down and talk to him again.

Fairies were inquisitive like that. It was that curiosity that always got them into trouble in the first place.

It took what felt like a few hours before Yuri came down to him again. Otabek wasn't quite sure for how long, exactly, not when the sun was unmoving in the sky, but what mattered was the fact that Yuri came to talk to him again.

“Why are we still here?” Yuri asked him sharply, moments before Otabek dropped off to sleep, but the sound of the fairy’s voice woke him up once again.

“We?” Of all the things he could choose to echo.

“I'm bound to you, aren't I? You could just pick me up right now and take me anywhere.” Yuri huffed. “Or drag me, as what I managed to do with you.”

That, indeed, was true. For some strange reason.

Otabek had fully intended to let Yuri go the moment he let the chains go, but something, somehow, held Yuri back. Held the _both_ of them back.

Perhaps it was his mission. Perhaps it was the duty that bound him to his lord. Or perhaps something else, but Otabek would waste no time with wondering why.

“Because you can get things from people by simply asking.” He replied. “Why did you take the summer with you?”

Yuri scowled at him, and flew away again.

* * *

Otabek didn't know if Yuri had met any other human before this, but he knew how little the spirits thought of humans. If Yuri thought he could goad him into impatience, then the fairy would have to get used to his first disappointment.

He waited patiently again for Yuri under the tree, leaving it only to take a drink from the creek, offered to him by blooming water lilies before he even asked for it. He took one when a pink blossom practically leapt at him, catching it easily with mild bewilderment.

It was like the flowers were telling him to give them to Yuri.

Now, still seated on the same spot but now with a dried coat and cloak, wetness spreading on the bottom of his trousers from the long-melted snow, Otabek waited for his next opportunity to speak with his fairy.

 _His_ fairy, yes. He had ensnared the blond, and had failed to let him go.

The water lily in his hand had yet to wilt, despite the time that had passed. Summer had not let its flowers wilt, and Otabek found himself counting its petals forward and back, and back and forward.

He was on the fifth round of numbers when Yuri came back down to him, grumbling in frustration as Otabek counted the petals of the flower calmly.

_Three, four, five…_

“Knight.”

_Six, seven, eight…_

“Hey, knight.”

Yuri knew his name, didn't he? He might as well use it.

_Nine, ten. Ten, nine…_

“ _Otabek Altin._ ”

Had Otabek been the fae, and Yuri the human, the blond would have lost a long time ago.

Otabek raised his head to acknowledge the blond fairy blankly, his calm eye meeting Yuri’s stormy ones. “Yes.”

“How can you be so…” Yuri struggled to find what to say, and he shook his head exasperatedly. “I don’t know why I keep coming back to you.”

“As do I.” Cool eyes turned back to the water lily in his hand. “The flowers wanted me to give this to you.” He said, and he held it out for Yuri to take. The blond eyed it warily, and Otabek shrugged. “Their offering, not mine.” He said. “I can’t do anything more to you than I already have.”

Which wasn’t much, really, but Otabek was no fool that pushed his luck.

Yuri eyed the flower warily, but eventually he took it, sinking down onto the ground with a heavy sigh. Otabek watched him deflate, almost sinking into the soft grass they sat on, and Yuri lay down on it, twirling the water lily between his fingers.

“It’s beautiful.” He said, and the blond only shot him a single glance before looking back at the flower. “I can see why the flowers wanted you to have it.”

Yuri snorted. “They aren’t trying to make me look pretty.” He said, and he rolled around on the grass to face away from Otabek. “They’re telling me to be honest.”

About what, Otabek wondered, but he said nothing.

A long moment of silence passed, before Yuri spoke again.

“The summer came with me because I was lonely.” He said quietly, yet it rang loud and clear in Otabek’s ears. “There used to be the two of us here.”

The knight paused, and he watched Yuri curl up on himself, his wings folding over his lithe body ineffectively.

“But then a human stole him away, and I’d never been alone before, ever since I…” He paused, and shook his head. “I hate humans.” He said weakly. “I want all of them to freeze over. I don’t care.”

“What one person did to you does not damn a whole people.” Otabek said gently, and Yuri jumped when he heard grass rustling behind him in time with the knight’s steps, and then Otabek’s heavy fur cloak draped over his shaking shoulders. “What can I do to help you?”

Yuri laughed, hollow and humourless, and yet Otabek did not waver.

“You, help me? That’s—” He turned to look at Otabek, and when their eyes met, Yuri fell silent, mouth hanging slack at Otabek looking down at him, expression neutral yet so determined. His voice caught in his throat, and the fairy choked slightly.

“For the summer, Yuri, I will stay with you instead.” He said, “I will endure the cold, the heat, the storms and droughts, by your side, if it means the summer may leave you.”

“It’s not my call,” Yuri replied, sitting up to glare right back at Otabek, and the man gave him a small smile. “Altin—”

“I am a man of my word,” he replied, pressing his hand to his chest as he would in King Leroy’s court, and Yuri’s eyes widened at him, the gold chain binding them together turning half-silver.

A spirit’s bond to a human’s promise, mixed with a human’s bond to a spirit’s. Ironic.

“My time, for the summer.” Otabek said, taking Yuri’s hand, squeezing it reverently.

Yuri’s voice hesitated as he spoke.

“So it shall be,” he breathed, and high above their head, the sun finally began to inch westward, the sky heaving a sigh of relief as blue began to fade into the richest violet.


	4. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His hometown would miss him, definitely. After disappearing into the forest for long, they surely would be worried, but Otabek knew they would go on without him. It was inevitable, someday, that he would not ever be able to return, and wounds healed with time. 
> 
> In the very least, summer was back to restore life to the kingdom, and just in time, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T-MINUS ROUGHLY 6 HOURS TO SUBS AND I DROP THIS CHAPTER HAHAH I'M NOT OKAY EP 12 IS IN LESS THAN HALF A DAY I AM?? ? ?? ?? NOT CALM
> 
> also my school's site won't let me post my students' grades?? ?? ? ?? or see _my_ grades?? ?? ?? ? ?? ? what th e fuc k

The morning was warmer than he remembered it.

The snow had begun to melt, and a droplet on his head woke King Leroy from his sleep. He sat up, blinking blearily in the middle of his bedroom to realise the room had grown warmer, if a smidge, despite the hearth being dead. His eyes widened, and he threw aside his sheets, rushing towards the window, to see icicles beginning to drip, and a small hyacinth peeking out from underneath the ice.

His heart _soared_.

Better late than never, really.

“Summer could not have come any later,” he breathed. “Altin did it. He _really_ did it.”

He laughed incredulously, running his hand through his hair as he hurried out the door towards the courtyard, delight in his eyes and relief in his blood, the sting of the cold stone under his bare feet _nothing_ compared to the slow drip of warmth into the air around him.

The young king hurried to the fountain in the middle of the courtyard, where the icicles were still intact, yet clear, dripping steadily from higher tiers of cold, polished stone, into a pool with a delicate sheen of thin ice that threatened to shatter with his breath. It had been frozen over ever since the year before, the natural start of the winter, and right underneath it was where he buried his heart.

Or what was left of it, anyway.

Somewhere above his head, the sky cleared, and the sun was warm, so _blessedly_ warm on his skin.

A widower at 19, King Jean-Jacques Leroy was a young man who had grown up far too fast for his heart to catch up, and as the birds sang their first songs far overdue for the season, his eyes welled up with tears as he smiled at the small statue of a young woman in the middle of the fountain, hidden from view behind moss-covered stone and thawing ice.

It’d been far too long since he saw her, again.

He sunk to the floor, and sobbed out his relief on the wet stone, ice melting under his body heat, the warmth of his tears and the heat of his breaths, as from afar, across the courtyard, a redhead assassin looked on impassively, counting the leaves on the branches of the oak tree above her king.

Twenty-one, she counted. Three weeks, and Altin will be found once more.

Her expression darkened.

And he _will_ pay for the lost time.

* * *

Otabek didn’t know what happened to people that were spirited away, but same as before, he spent his daytime hours resting underneath the willow tree. Now with the sun moving across the sky as summer returned to the land, he had a vague idea of the passage of time, what time was noon, or dusk or dawn, and the creek and the nearby forest kept him well-fed enough.

His hometown would miss him, definitely. After disappearing into the forest for long, they surely would be worried, but Otabek knew they would go on without him. It was inevitable, someday, that he would not ever be able to return, and wounds healed with time.

In the very least, summer was back to restore life to the kingdom, and just in time, too.

“Altin.”

“Yuri.”

They exchanged little words, small nothings that meant everything and nothing at the same time, yet Otabek didn’t know where the fairy’s mind went, most of the time.

Instead, in the little time he had spent with Yuri following his vow, Otabek had taken the liberty of observing the fairy. He wasn’t always so incredibly elegant, preferring to walk or climb with his hands and feet sometimes up and down the tree and after small animals. He would trip, fall over into dirt, cursing sometimes, and in times when Yuri didn’t know Otabek had been watching him, he would dissolve into giggles, and his braid would come looser with each tousle of his hair.

The fairy, when he wasn’t so prickly severe, was a warm young thing, beautiful like mayflies hovering over springwater edges. His hair, in the morning, was the yellow-gold sunbursts, and in the dusk, rose-gold stardust that scattered into the shimmering dots across the black satin of night. Flowers once bloomed where he walked or sat, back when summer was by his side, but now, with only the elements and a tired, lonely knight, Yuri was not as frequently surrounded with them.

And yet around them, in the utopia of the fairy’s home, the wildflowers blossomed, and the trees bore fruit. The water lilies still danced at night between the reflection of the moon, and Yuri remained beautiful through it all.

And past that, most evident of all, was the strength he quietly carried with him. The coiled tension of a secret he kept close to himself, heavier than the confession of a loss of a friend—or family, Otabek wasn’t sure. Yuri had not spoken to him properly since the time the sun began to move again, and Otabek had not tried starting conversation—he would let the fairy come to him whenever he needed.

Still, it left him wondering about his hometown he left behind. Of Mila, possibly still after him for taking too long. Of his King Leroy, and of the mission he had been assigned.

How were they all doing? Would Mila be successful in finding him? Would he die here and summer be taken away from the people again?

Otabek woke one night to see Yuri kneeling next to him, and the fairy’s eyes widened with shock that he had been caught doing whatever it was he was doing. Yuri got ready to fly away when Otabek grasped his wrist as gently as he could without letting the fairy escape.

“Come here.” He said gently. “I know the nights can get cold.”

Yuri eyed him warily, but all Otabek did was offer Yuri his cloak. He was previously using it as a blanket, but comparing his ratty but warm clothes to Yuri’s flowing, translucent toga, he knew who needed the cloak more. He draped the heavy material over Yuri’s shoulders, and patted the spot next to him kindly. “Goodnight.” He said, and turned away from Yuri to politely face away from him.

He shut his eyes, pretending to sleep as he listened to Yuri’s hesitation, the rustle of grass under his bare feet, and Otabek felt Yuri settle down next to him under the tree, leaning against the trunk. Otabek smiled gently to himself as he began to relax, when he felt just the slightest touch at his back, and then the press of a body against him.

“Don't lie to spirits,” Yuri said, his voice muffled by the distance between them, and the warm cloak wrapped around him. “You're awake.”

Otabek did not reply.

“It's just cold.” Yuri confessed. “Don't get any ideas.”

“I won't.” He answered, and that was the end of their conversation.

* * *

Otabek woke up before the break of dawn, feeling the weight of Yuri’s head resting on his back. He turned slowly, careful not to wake him up, and he watched Yuri’s head nod against his side, curling closer to him, cuddling his cloak warmly as he shivered slightly.

The knight pulled the fairy closer, shuffling to let Yuri rest his head against his arm, wrapping his arm around his shoulders to envelop him with more warmth. Yuri smiled unconsciously, cuddling closer, before murmuring, “Vitya.”

Otabek blinked down at the fairy. Vitya? Perhaps it was the companion Yuri mentioned, the one the humans stole away.

He brushed away a lock of hair from Yuri’s face, gently sweeping it back behind the fairy’s pointed ear.

He really _did_ look like him. The golden hair, the cut-glass eyes, the paleness of his skin. Otabek sighed deeply, and pressed his cheek to the top of Yuri’s head.

“Yuratchka.” He whispered softly. “I never thought I'd see you again.”

Yuri had been a tiny boy he met while he was a squire in the castle town, just barely growing into his squire’s tunic. Yuri was working odd jobs, despite being a little child, and Otabek had saved him more times than he could remember in the years they knew each other. They had met just like Otabek had met his fairy, him giving the blond offerings of food, a toy, and a precious item, and ever since then, Yuri had been his friend, until the one winter of his fifteenth year, when he died.

And now, there was this little fairy next to him, the splitting image of a friend he had lost many winters ago, and Otabek found it hard to breathe.

They had curled up together like this frequently over the years, sharing stories under low voices and breathless giggles. He had missed those times, and he had missed the way Yuri had smiled at him, laughed at what he said, and cuddled close to him.

And now, here was another Yuri, a splitting image of his old Yuri, in the same place the blond belonged to a long, long time ago.

He sat there for the longest time, listening to the steady rhythm of Yuri’s breaths, until dawn rose. The fairy stirred awake beside him, and Yuri yawned once, innocently sleepy like a child, before blinking up at Otabek.

“Good morning.” he said blankly, and Yuri hummed.

“Good morning, Vitya,” he murmured, still half-asleep, and he cupped Otabek’s face in his hand, before leaning forward to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear to god it all looks pretty bad rn but i swear the angst ~~though ngl i don't feel any of it rn~~ will fix itself


	5. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come home with me.” He said, and the fairy blinked at him, eyes wide. “Just beyond your home is my home, a small village far away from the castle town. Come with me.”
> 
> Yuri’s expression tightened. “Why don't you just take me with you? You can do that—why won't you just do that?” He snatched his wrists away from Otabek, and the knight did not chase them. “You're a human, aren't you, why don't you just take what you want?”
> 
> “As I said before,” Otabek explained patiently. “You can get things from people by simply asking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry fuckn christmas y'all dirty animals, happy birthday victor katsuki-nikiforov, living legend, high maintenance drama queen, five time GPF gold medalist, katsudon lover, the lord and saviour of skating,
> 
> also lmao i'm glad i've managed to surprise people with the kiss last chapter. don't worry, it won't be the last :^) 
> 
>  
> 
> ~~also apparently this fic _is_ heading towards angst so buckle up lmao sorry about this guys~~
> 
>  
> 
> a-anyway here's a new chapter, , ,, , i've actually already hit 9 on my gdoc but i'm Pacing(TM) the releases lmao please enjoy

The slap should have come as a surprise, but it wasn’t unfounded either. Not _too_ unfounded, anyway, though Otabek felt like he had been cheated of something.

Yuri’s eyes widened with shock a few seconds after their kiss, something becoming whole and simultaneously shattering like glass in his expression as he shot back, away from Otabek, his hand flying to slap the man across the face on reflex. Otabek sat there, blinking in surprise just as much as Yuri was shocked, his hand coming up to touch the cheek that was still slightly stinging from the fairy’s slap.

Yuri tried to fly away, yanking Otabek’s cloak off him, wings shimmering clear and golden in the wee light of the morning, and Otabek panicked slightly.

 _Don't go,_ he wanted to say, but the chain binding them together did it for him. Yuri stopped short of a few metres away from Otabek, choking in surprise before he dropped like a stone to the ground. Yuri struggled weakly for a moment, and the knight felt his stomach turn. He couldn't imagine how that could have felt. He got up, and carefully got closer to the fairy apologetically, as Yuri lay limp on the grass.

“Why did I do that,” The blond despaired, his cheeks flushing prettily, and flowers bloomed from behind his ears in a dainty little flower crown as their eyes met again. “Wh-why, oh, why did I—”

Yuri swallowed, looking ready to cry, and he shrunk away from Otabek, looking betrayed as he curled up on himself. The flowers atop his head wilted slowly at his mood, and the glow that exuded from his skin dimmed, ever-so-slightly.

“Why did you let me?” He said brokenly, and Otabek held his hand up at Yuri to placate him.

“Hush,” He said calmly, but his heart began to thunder in his chest. He could hear horse-hooves roaring in his ears that rushed with the flow of blood under his skin.

He’d dreamt of this, since that day. Since the day Yuri died, really, and Otabek had never really quite let him go.

“I-I—” Yuri shook his head. “I shouldn’t have taken your ring.”

Otabek paused at that, and the both of them looked down at the silver band still burning, still pressed into the middle of Yuri’s palm.

“A ring… of matrimony. Of a promise. Of someone in love, and—” Yuri’s expression crumbled as he buried his face in his hands. “Why did he go?” He sobbed, “Vitya, he just _left_ and with that stupid _human_ and why is love so damn _stupid_ —”

Otabek pulled the blond into a warm embrace, as Yuri shuddered in his arms. The knight smoothed his hand down the back of Yuri’s head, hushing him soothingly.

“Calm down.” He said quietly. “Yuri, breathe.”

Yuri’s hands came up to clutch Otabek’s arms shakily, and he looked up at the knight, eyes desperate, shining with tears that threatened to spill.

“What the _hell_ does love mean?” He snarled shakily, “Why did Vitya leave me? I-I, he _knew_ ,”

Otabek hushed him, taking his wrists and lowering his hands slowly, to not spook him. “Come home with me.” He said, and the fairy blinked at him, eyes wide. “Just beyond your home is my home, a small village far away from the castle town. Come with me.”

Yuri’s expression tightened. “Why don't you just take me with you? You can do that—why won't you just do that?” He snatched his wrists away from Otabek, and the knight did not chase them. “You're a human, aren't you, why don't you just take what you want?”

Both of them knew that wasn't true.

Of all the time Otabek had spent there in the idyll that was Yuri and his Vitya’s home, he had not taken what he didn't ask for. He still asked permission from the willing creek, and let the flowers know he needed a drink. He knew the rules of the spirit world as much as Yuri did not, and the frustration had grit the fairy’s patience thin.

“As I said before,” Otabek explained patiently. “You can get things from people by simply asking.”

He held Yuri’s hand slowly, squeezing it comfortably, and the blond flinched. “Come with me to my home, and maybe you can understand why Vitya left.”

“Victor,” Yuri bit out bitterly. “Victor was his name.”

Victor. A fairy with a name, most likely previously owned by a human. And now, Yuri, his little protégé, was suffering the same fate. The thought left a sting in the middle of Otabek’s chest, and he frowned deeper.

“I'm sorry.” Otabek said, meaning more than his mistake of Victor’s name, and Yuri looked down at their joined hands, refusing to meet Otabek’s eye. The fairy squeezed his hand gingerly, and sighed.

“I don't want to live here anymore.” He confessed. “Vitya’s memory is still all over the place.”

Otabek nodded slowly, and gently eased Yuri into standing up. The fairy still refused to meet his gaze, but he let him be, letting him go briefly to pick his cloak up off the ground. He wrapped it around Yuri’s shoulders, and the fairy finally looked up at him.

“To hide your wings.” He said, now not meeting Yuri’s eyes as he busied himself with fixing his cloak around Yuri’s body. “My home is full of humans, and you wouldn't want them finding out you're a fairy.”

“Why?” Yuri asked. “Don't humans fear the spirits?”

“Yes.” Otabek replied, finally deeming himself done, and he looked Yuri in the eye. “But overdue winter and the loss of loved ones are more than enough motivation to replace that fear with anger.”

Yuri’s eyes widened, but Otabek smoothed his hand over Yuri’s head, and the touch itself was enough to shock Yuri’s panic away from him.

“Don't worry,” he said. “I'll protect you.”

Victor never told him that before.

Otabek left him standing there, bewildered and clutching his cloak shut around him, as he made his way around the willow tree hill to gather his things. Yuri watched him work, and he felt a warmth bubble low in his belly.

Kindness, he thought, was a strange thing.

Victor’s touches never felt as warm as Otabek’s did.

He didn't have many belongings with him, and he didn't know where the porcelain tiger now was, but Otabek decided to leave it there, turning back to look at Yuri when he had finished gathering his things. “Let's go.” He said, offering Yuri his hand, and the blond gingerly took it, the fairy’s other hand tightly holding Otabek’s cloak shut around him.

Together they walked away from the willow tree, swishing peacefully in the calm, soft breeze and vibrant as ever in the paradise that was Yuri’s home, yet as they cleared the hill it was on, the tree seemed to wilt. Looking over his shoulder, Otabek watched it slowly die, drooping lower and lower towards the ground with every step they took, until it rested on the ground heavily, as if heaving one last breath of exhaustion. Beneath their feet, the rustle of baby green grass was replaced with the crunch and crackle of dying leaves, and Otabek watched the idyll of summer turn into the barren wasteland of winter.

Yuri refused to look back, tears in his eyes.

Otabek quietly let him be, as they walked further away from his dying home towards the evergreens with melting snow, and as they entered the forest once more, Yuri’s utopia disappeared with a blink and a swish of branches behind them, and sharp, unforgiving roots stuck up between the last remnants of snow.

“Ow,” Yuri hissed, and Otabek looked down to see the fairy had stepped into a fallen bush of thorns. His bare foot bled with a few cuts here and there, and he sighed.

“Here.” He said, letting go of Yuri’s hand and kneeling down to offer Yuri his arms.

The fairy blinked at him. “Altin?”

“I'll carry you.” He replied softly. “You can't walk with an injured foot.”

“I can fly.” Yuri huffed petulantly as he lifted his bleeding foot. The blood, bright red and shining like rubies, dripped from his toes to the ground, and little wildflowers, innocent and white, sprung from the droplets when they landed.

“You can't show them you're a fairy.” Otabek insisted. “Come on.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, but he reluctantly let Otabek carry him, cuddling closer to the knight as Otabek adjusted his hold on Yuri.

“Is this alright for you?”

“Yeah.” Yuri mumbled into the crook of Otabek’s neck, and the knight simply grunted in response before trekking back.

* * *

It had been over a week since Otabek had gone into the forest, and they had not heard word from him ever since. Every day and every night, any able-bodied person in the village would wait for him at the gaping maw of the evergreen forest, in the day a warm meal and a blanket with the watcher, at night, the same things, but with an additional gas lamp to guide his way.

It had been too long, and worry was too horrible to think of, but they never gave up on their hero. Summer had returned, and soon, so would he.

Otabek _always_ came back.

That evening, an elderly man sat by himself on a creaky wicker chair at the maw of the forest, nursing a hot drink and the lamp light by his feet. The wind was getting warmer, but winter’s last breaths still remained, and the cold wind was merciless on old bones. He shivered slightly, taking a sip of hot cocoa, and waited.

And waited, and waited, for the last knight from their village.

It felt like hours, another night without a hero coming home, but just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard rustling and snapping branches in the distance.

His eyes widened, and he shot to his feet as fast as he could, holding up the lamp as his drink dropped to the ground in disbelief.

Otabek emerged from the forest, looking absolutely unscathed, in his arms a small figure, fast asleep.

“Beka!” He gasped in delight, as Otabek gave him a small smile, calmly walking towards him with little difficulty, despite the weight of a person in his arms. “You're back! Summer is back!”

“I know.” He replied sedately. “I'm sorry for taking a while.”

“Who's this?” The old man asked, looking at the figure in Otabek’s arms, only to realise that it was a lithe young blond, cuddled close to Otabek and sound asleep. His breath caught in his throat. “He… he looks like Yuratchka.”

“It's not the same.” Otabek replied. “But he is also named Yuri. He'll be staying here for a while, if that's alright.”

The old man’s eyes, wet with unshed tears, lit up.

“Of course.” He replied shakily. “I'll help you have him settled in.”

Otabek nodded gratefully. “Thank you.” He said. “I'll head back to my house, I'll greet everyone in the morning.”

“Of course, of course,” the old man nodded. “The best of rest, Beka.”

Otabek nodded, and carried Yuri away into his old house. Gently he set the fairy down onto his bed, careful not to wake him as he tucked him in, keeping his cloak around him under the covers.

He lightly caressed Yuri’s cheek with the back of his fingers, brushing golden hair aside.

“Yuratchka.” He murmured, and remembered the boy he fell in love with years ago. “Welcome home.”

He settled down on his mother’s rocking chair, wrapping a spare blanket around himself, sighing deeply.

It wasn't unheard of, fairies resembling the dead, and his mother had told him that they did that to confuse the humans they wanted to fool, to trick them into doing whatever they wanted them to do, but Otabek knew Yuri was different.

For starters, he didn't seem to know the rules on how to catch a fairy, willingly taking the ring despite being clearly the last, most important gift, instead of running away. He didn't seem to know much beyond his utopia, beyond his Victor, and Otabek would wager that Yuri would be a particularly young fairy. He didn't even know they could _be_ young.

And then there was his association with summer in general. His Yuri had died of the cold weather of the worst winter Otabek himself ever experienced, barring the past one where Yuri took the summer with him. This Yuri sought company with the summer itself.

It was too close to be sheer dumb luck. Maybe this fairy _was_ playing him, wearing Yuri's face and acting all too unaware of the rules that governed the spirit world, and maybe, come tomorrow Yuri would kill them all, and yet—

And yet, Otabek refused to let this Yuri go.

He smiled to himself as he felt fatigue pull him into the depths of sleep, and then he heard Yuri speak as his eyes slid shut.

“Beka, it's cold.”

Those were Yuri's last words to him before he died.

Otabek fell asleep before he could think more of it.


	6. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I'll have to carry you.”
> 
> “Again.” The corners of his lips pulled up into a smile he found himself easing into, and the knight’s expression softened.
> 
> Maybe, he thought. Maybe, this could work.
> 
> “Again.” Otabek nodded. “I'm not a form of transportation, Yuri.”
> 
> “Then I'll appropriate you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stAAAAMMINI VICINOOOOO NON TEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeEEEeEEE ADAREEEEEeeeeEEEeeE 
> 
> THAT SEASON FINALE WAS BEAUTIFUL AND I COULD NOT HAVE ASKED FOR ANYTHING MORE BEAUTIFUL. I ALSO WENT TO A TOTAL OF TWO CONS THIS WEEK AND I BOUGHT LOVELY, LOVELY MERCH. I ALSO WENT SKATING WITH FAMILY AND FRIENDS AND I COULD ACTUALLY HOLD ON MY OWN THIS TIME AND NOT. RELY ON THE RAILINGS AS MUCH ANYMORE AT THE COST OF THE UGLIEST BRUISE ON MY KNEE TO DATE. I HAD A BLAST.
> 
> this week was beautiful and while the loss of yoi for the follow weeks leaves a skate-shaped hole in my heart, we have other things to look forward to. Anyway! It's almost New Year, and since I've had a good week, I've decided to drop two chapters. One tonight, December 30 (Philippine Standard Time), and one tomorrow, on New Year's Eve! I hope you all have a wonderful new year, and let's all hope 2017 is kinder to us.

If Yuri remembered anything from the night before, he said nothing about it.

Otabek woke up to see the fairy already awake, sitting up in his bed and looking pensively outside the window. He still held Otabek’s cloak around himself as he watched the town come to life, the early morning fog beginning to dissipate as summer finally rolled in.

“Yuri.” He said, sitting up properly, and the blond turned to look at him. “Good morning.”

“We're at your village.” Yuri said quietly, and Otabek nodded. “Has anyone seen…”

“No. Just Nikolai, the town baker.” He replied, getting up to stretch, wincing. “And even then, he didn't know what you are.”

Yuri deflated.

“Were you expecting them to?” Otabek asked.

“I…” Yuri hesitated. “No. Knowing you,” he took a deep breath, and looked back out the window. “No.”

“I haven't met everyone else yet. I was waiting for you.”

Yuri jolted slightly. “Me.”

“You're a new addition to the town. They would want to meet you.” Otabek approached him, and Yuri looked at him again as he sat down on the bed next to Yuri. There was a beat of comfortable silence, before Otabek spoke again. “Your foot’s not healed over yet.”

“Haven't put much thought in it.” Yuri looked down at it, absently eyeing the dark red lines of crusted blood on it. “Maybe later.” He said, and quietly watched the knight shake his head fondly.

“Still. I’ll wrap it up.” He declared, leaving the fairy’s side to head into an adjacent room. Yuri strained his neck to see what Otabek was doing, but to no avail, and he huffed, dropping himself back down into bed. He listened for the sound of the knight rifling through some things, a muffled curse and a small thud, and he couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face. He quickly dropped it, though, when Otabek came back, carrying with him some bandages and a jar of ointment.

“Hold still,” he said, as Yuri sat up, and Otabek gently cupped his hand under Yuri’s ankle to lift his foot.

The fairy tried not to blush, turning his gaze away at the oddly intimate touch, as Otabek wrapped the bandage around his injured foot, slowly and carefully, with the crisp speed and precision of a physician. There wasn’t much deeper meaning to it, he reasoned, yet he couldn’t help the involuntary sigh of contentment as he sunk back down into bed, comforted by Otabek’s soft, careful touch.

It felt oddly familiar, and Yuri couldn’t shake the feeling Otabek had done this to him before.

“I'll have to carry you.” Otabek’s voice shook him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to meet steadfast, dark eyes that had been trained on him since the very beginning. Instead of feeling pinned down, he could only feel… _familiarity_ , and it was the strangest feeling.

“Again.” The corners of his lips pulled up into a smile he found himself easing into, and the knight’s expression softened.

Maybe, he thought. Maybe, this could work.

“Again.” Otabek nodded. “I'm not a form of transportation, Yuri.”

“Then I'll appropriate you.” The blond replied easily, and Otabek shook his head fondly. “Up.”

The knight bent down to carefully pick the fairy up, cradling him in his arms comfortably, and Yuri snuggled closer to him.

“I will have to say,” he smirked, “I guess some humans are good for something.”

“Flattering.” Otabek replied flatly, but he carried Yuri from the bed and through the threshold out of his house. Outside a considerable crowd had already gathered, Nikolai at the front of them all, looking excited for Otabek to greet his home again.

The knight came to a stop at his porch, blinking at the crowd, as Yuri looked over his shoulder at them from his perch in Otabek’s arms.

“Good morning.” The knight said simply, and the crowd cheered.

“Welcome back, Beka,” Nikolai said on behalf of all of them there, “And welcome home, to your summer bride.”

Yuri spluttered indignantly, embarrassed, as Otabek managed a chuckle, earning him a light smack on his arm from the fairy. “W-we’re not like that!”

“Yet he carried you over his threshold like his bride?” Nikolai smiled. “Yuri, any stranger is welcome here in our home.” He paused, and spotted the bandages on his foot. “Ah, you’re injured.”

“It’s fine,” Otabek said suddenly, “I’ve already taken care of it.”

Somewhere in the crowd, they heard someone say dreamily something about model husbands and dashing knights. Much to Yuri’s surprise, a light pink dusted Otabek’s cheeks.

“Anyway.” The knight said, and Yuri could only blink at him, bewildered at the flush on his cheeks. “This is Yuri. He’ll be staying with us from now on.”

Yuri hid his face in his hands after that, when the whole town cooed at him, trying to hide his burning cheeks ineffectively behind thin hands.

From now on, he thought.

It had a nice ring to it.

* * *

Later on, Otabek left Yuri to his devices to help around town. Yuri healed his foot over, and he got around by himself to explore the little burg Otabek called home, the knight’s cloak still wrapped around his shoulders to hide his wings. The people there were warm, and surprisingly reverent of the spirits, always mentioning them in thanks or being careful of them as they worked their little fields and tended their livestock. It took him a while to realise that Yuri soon had a following of several of the village’s little children, all tailing him with wide eyes full of wonder. Soon, they were all chasing down stray cats and dogs in the small alleyways, laughing at chickens trying to cross the single cobblestone road in the middle of the town.

“Beka, look at your summer bride,” the elderly woman cooed warmly, and Otabek looked up from the hay he had just set down at the back of her barn to see her smiling outside the door fondly.

“He’s not my bride.” He replied sedately, but he walked up to her side to watch Yuri run around with the village children, laughing delightedly as they chased after small animals down the road. Otabek’s cloak was still tightly wrapped around his shoulders, but that didn't hinder him from all the running he did.

Otabek couldn't help the smile that crossed his face.

“Oh, but he's lovely,” the woman continued. “And so beautiful, too. You've never brought anyone home with you before, so why not Yuri?” She elbowed him, weak with her age, but he could only laugh sheepishly. “Come, now. You're a young man, unmarried, and a knight! You should be thinking about sweeping a lovely someone off their feet now.” She patted his arm. “I’ll do a reading for you and Yuri, and you’ll see! The spirits always know best.”

“The spirits, huh.” Otabek sighed, leaning on the doorway as he watched Yuri’s golden hair glimmer in the late morning sunshine. “I think…” The old woman cocked her head at him. “They already know.”

She blinked at him, confused, but he shook his head. “One more stack of hay, right? I’ll be back quickly, _babushka_.”

Otabek hurried away, and the woman smiled to herself.

“Oh, Beka, my boy, the way you look at your Yuri is enough to tell me everything.” She sighed fondly, and turned to watch Yuri and the children again.

* * *

Yuri could only barely remember the last time he had this much fun, in the back of his mind, in hazy, incomplete memories that scattered across the horizon of his thoughts. It felt familiar, to be running around and laughing with friends—a _friend_?—at something or nothing, and it took the weight off his chest.

The hole that Victor left didn’t feel as big as it used to be.

“Hey, hey, Yuratchka,” one little girl with hair the colour of whey smiled as they all settled down under an oak tree. He looked down at her, cocking his head. “Do you like Beka?”

A hot flush crossed Yuri’s cheeks. “Where’d that come from?” he snapped at her, as the others with them began to giggle. One of the older children got up to stand behind Yuri, braiding his long blond hair as she promised when they first met.

“Well, Beka likes you!” one boy, practically a toddler, yelled, and Yuri winced.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” He drawled, crossing his arms. “Otabek’s just like that, staring at people the scary way he does.”

“No, he doesn’t.” A redhead boy huffed. “He’s like a big brother to all of us, all the adults like him, and he doesn’t glare at us.” Yuri deflated disbelievingly, and the boy pouted at him. “But he doesn’t look at us the same way he looks at you.”

“Oh, he looks at you like how Mama looks at Papa!” Another girl cooed, throwing the wildflowers she picked into the air between them in the circle they formed, and some landed in Yuri’s hair. The girl braiding his hair giggled, and wove them in. Yuri deflated further at her, knowing he could grow his own flowers in his hair, but he let them be.

“It’s really sweet, actually.” The eldest girl nodded, securing Yuri’s braid with a tattered ribbon. “I really think you and Otabek would make quite a pair.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” the whey-haired girl said, “Remember Yuratchka?”

Yuri straightened up at that, blinking, as the other children nodded.

“He shares your name,” the eldest explained, “And,” she hesitated, as she sat down next to Yuri. “He looks a lot like you.”

“He should be your age by now.” The next eldest, a boy with black hair, sighed, crossing his arms as he leant against the trunk of the oak tree. “He left for the castle town a long time ago, and he… never came back. That’s why we never really left our village.”

Yuri frowned. He remembered Otabek mentioning a Yuri before.

“But he’s dead.” He said, and the children all deflated.

“Yeah.” They chorused sadly, and Yuri flinched, feeling their sadness permeate the air, sharp-smelling and leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

“I-I’m sorry.” He stammered, but the eldest girl shook her head.

“No, he’s long gone now.” She said, “But Beka loved him very much. Of all of us in the village, the ones that hurt the most when he died were his grandpa Nikolai and his best friend Beka.”

Yuri’s eyes widened. Nikolai, the man who had greeted him and Otabek that morning. The baker, who made those lonely-tasting piroshki, the one who missed his grandson. Somehow, knowing his name filled his chest with an unexplainable sadness, and longing, and…

“Yuratchka!” the whey-haired girl gasped, and all the children sprung onto their feet as the eldest wiped at his cheeks. Yuri’s eyes widened when he realised he’d been crying.

“You’re crying, oh my goodness, why?” they all fussed over him, as he shook his head, leaning away from them, hiding his face.

“I-I don’t know,” he stammered, “I-I just,” he turned away, and saw in the distance, Otabek headed to a barn, a huge roll of hay on top of his shoulder. He stopped, and the children all turned to watch the knight, shirtless, carrying the heavy load like no problem.

Some of the girls swooned. “Oh, look at him.”

“He’s calmed down Yuratchka, that’s for sure.” The eldest boy snickered, and Yuri flushed deeply.

“T-take that back,” he stammered, but children were merciless, whether to their fellow humans or to the spirits. They giggled delightedly, making such a ruckus that it made Yuri want to crawl back to his utopia, dead or alive, and simply _stay_ there out of embarrassment. Instead he buried his head in his hands while the children all clamoured up to call for Otabek.

“Beka! Beka! Over here!”

Otabek looked their way, meeting Yuri’s eye, and the blond wanted nothing more than to melt into the ground.

Shirtless, sweaty and carrying a bunch of hay stalks on one shoulder, Otabek was a sight to behold, really. Quite the pinnacle of perfection, with a knight’s toned body, and the blank expression—

Yuri tore his eyes away from the man and hurried away to the sound of delighted giggling from his young companions.

He'll get them, he thought, as he ran back to Otabek’s—no, _his_ and Otabek’s house. There was _no way_ Yuri would like a human.

He wasn't Victor, selfish and idealistic, easily charmed and easily misled. He was stronger. More steadfast.

He didn't need anyone, and _especially_ not the human who took him there, where it was poor and rundown, but warm and friendly, happy, and loving—

Yuri jumped into bed, and buried his face into the pillows.

 _Not_ going to happen, he thought angrily. He would _not_ allow these humans to worm their way into his heart like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on a more sober note, to those who lost their lives this week, rest in peace.


	7. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I'll be back.” He promised. “I'll always come back for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR'S EVE/HAPPY NEW YEARRRRR!!!!! here's to a wonderful new year ahead of us. ouo  
> As promised here's the second part of the two-part update~ Thank you all so much for the support and the wonderful comments I've been getting. Sorry I haven't been replying ,, ,, , , i tend to, ,, , ,,, , forget and then by the time I remember it would be too embarrassingly late for me to reply :'''^)))) so here're some things i'd like to say!
> 
> a.) **JJ? ?? ? ??? ? ?whe r e** ok so JJ/Yuri will happen, but I actually still don't know what the endgame looks like. The doc I'm currently writing is at 10 chapters (10!!!!) at 20k++ words and JJ and Yuri have just met. That's right. Spoilers, I guess. :^))))) But he'll play a bigger role soon.
> 
> b.) **YUURI?? ? ? ? ?VICTOR?????? ? W HE R E???** ok so haha funny story they also have their own Thing™ that I cannot be _bothered_ to tackle in this fic alone. Probably a companion piece will fix that problem, but for now they're side characters to Yuri and Beka's story. 
> 
> c.) it's new years eve, and im midly inebriated. i drink as badly as victor and i need an intervention. where do y'all suggest i get good tequila because holy shit boy do i love tequila rose,,,,
> 
> lmaoooo now that that's out of the way, please enjoy the fic! and I'll throw in a preview for _chapter 10_ in the end notes too, for all y'all curious about where victor is. and a last word of warning: **THERE IS BLOOD AND MILD GORE IN THIS CHAPTER, AND IN A FOLLOWING CHAPTER. I'VE LONG TAGGED IT IN THE TAGS, BUT IT WON'T HURT TO SAY IT AGAIN. PLEASE PRACTICE PRECAUTION.**

A week and a half had passed since Otabek brought Yuri to the village, and the whole time they had been nigh inseparable. Not out of camaraderie or anything like that, really, it was like the whole village conspired to keep the two of them together, isolated, no matter what.

It was also growing harder for Yuri to ignore the nagging feeling he had in his chest every time Otabek looked his way. It felt familiar, warm and kind, and the oddness of it all shocked Yuri to the core. What was wrong with him? What was with this human that had him so… focused on him?

Today, Yuri and Otabek were helping the farmer from down the road pick apples. It was mostly Otabek doing the heavy work, holding a basket of them up _and_ carrying Yuri on his shoulders. The fairy was still wearing Otabek’s cloak over his wings to hide them, but now he was dressed in Otabek’s old clothes. He picked each fruit off the tree, the spirit inside already wishing him well for the day and hoping her fruits were a bountiful harvest for the kind, reverent people of her town. All Yuri could do was mumble his thanks, before dropping the apples one by one into Otabek’s basket. Beyond them, the old man watched them work, beaming happily at their help, and when they were done, he offered them both a juicy apple each.

“Thanks,” Otabek simply said, before biting into the fruit without hesitation, while Yuri looked down at his.

“Yuratchka, have some.” The old man smiled at him kindly. “They're wonderful, this time of the year. Thank goodness they've managed to grow enough so quickly after the winter.”

It had been mostly because of his presence there. The crops began to flourish bountifully, and the trees bore fat fruit, even the wild bushes near the outskirts of the village. The presence of a fairy always enhanced the earth around them, it was why the idyll he and Victor once called home was as beautiful as it was before he left. That, and every night following the days after their arrival, when Yuri would stretch out his wings in the middle of the night without anyone knowing, he would make a small cut on his index finger, and let his blood drip over the farmland, and the forest earth around them, bit by bit. Last night had been the last night of his bloodletting, finally covering the whole area.

It wasn't because he wanted to help the humans, he reasoned. It was just because the area looked a little… dead and he didn't want the forest all dilapidated while he was around. If he let any blood on the humans’ farmland, well. That was simple coincidence.

Otabek had asked him about it once, and Yuri had simply shrugged, but the both of them knew that somehow, Otabek knew.

Yuri wasn't a very careful person when it came to sneaking out, after all.

The farmer gestured at the apple, and Yuri nodded sheepishly. He bit into the fruit, sighing contentedly at the juice that flowed into his mouth.

“They're delicious.” Otabek said, and Yuri nodded. The knight turned to look at his fairy, and he smiled, cocking his head slightly. “Aren't they, Yuri?”

A deep flush crossed Yuri’s cheeks.

“Y-yeah.” He stuttered, and he could almost hit himself for stumbling over his words.

Why was he being so _affected_ by it? The way Otabek smiled at him, spoke with him gently, but frankly, completely straightforward and honest, it all annoyed him at first but now…

Now, it just made him feel warm inside.

Victor had never talked to him like that. Never made him _feel_ like what he felt right now.

Perhaps humanity _did_ have its merits. Otabek, most of all.

“Oh, you two make a wonderful couple.” The old farmer sighed happily, and the two of them whirled around to look at him, flustered. “I know the whole town says it, but that's because it's true.” He patted their arms. “You two are already living together, why not seal it with a marriage?” He winked at Yuri, “And you can give our Beka here something to _really_ smile about.”

“ _Dedushka_ ,” Otabek sighed exasperatedly, blushing, and Yuri couldn't help but chuckle at the knight. Otabek blinked at Yuri’s reaction, and the fairy simply shrugged.

“I'll head home first.” Yuri said to ease the situation. “I still have to hang up our laundry.”

He didn't remember (rather, he _refused_ to) when he had started calling Otabek’s house _home,_ but the transition felt so natural, so _easy_ to call it that despite the short time he had been living there. It was warm, tiny but cosy, and Otabek let him use the bed while he slept on a mattress generously donated by Nikolai.

(Yuri had tried not to think of it as the old Yuri’s old mattress.)

“Alright.” Otabek nodded. “Take care, Yuri.”

And, well. It was hard now to deny that Yuri was enjoying his peaceful life in Otabek's village. It was about time he used that other name.

Yuri took a deep breath.

“Get home soon,” He felt his cheeks burn and his tongue grow heavy. “Beka.”

The farmer lit up, delighted, as Otabek choked on his apple. Yuri wasted no time in hanging around, and he hurried back home, cheeks hotter than ever at the memory of Otabek's own burning cheeks at the sound of his nickname. Out of sheer embarrassment, Yuri managed to finish not only the laundry, but cleaning the whole house _and_ the lot outside before Otabek made it home with some raw ingredients he got from the villagers as thanks for his help. They met up at Otabek’s porch, Yuri clutching the broom close to himself as he tried to hide under Otabek’s cloak still around him to hide his wings, Otabek carrying a bag of food in his arms awkwardly as he approached.

Yuri didn't know what to say, really, but Otabek, thankfully, did.

“Yuratchka.” He breathed, coming to a stop in front of him, and Yuri let the smile that had wanted to show for so long push through.

“Beka.” He replied, and _relief_ filled the knight’s eyes.

He pulled Yuri into a hug, and the blond let him.

Soon, he thought, hugging Otabek back and burying his face in the crook of his neck, he could maybe trust Otabek enough to tell him an important little secret.

* * *

Of course, with the return of the summer brought with it the return of commerce, of interrelations between towns and villages, and Yuri should have known that the peace, as always, would never last long.

It was nearing the second week of their return to the village, and horses pulling carts with merchants trading wares arrived at their tiny town from time to time. Livestock, crops and other products were traded and bartered between delighted townsfolk and travelling merchants, and while Yuri kept a safe distance away from them, his beauty still caught the eye of many a merchant passing by.

“Hey there, beautiful thing,” one man had said, breath smelling of tobacco and coat heavily-scented with aromatic oils, “What're doing in a dustbin like this place?”

He had tried kissing Yuri’s hand, but the fairy backed away from him, glowering at him.

“I didn't know dustbins had beautiful crops and not vermin like _you_ around.” He shot back, and the man laughed, inching closer—

“When someone says stop, even not literally, please learn to stop.”

Otabek stood between Yuri and the merchant, dressed in his full armour, fully visibly the security the town boasted. The seal on his breastplate told Yuri he served someone important—royal, perhaps, and the expression on the merchant’s face confirmed it all.

“That's… that's King Leroy’s…”

“Sir Otabek Altin of the Royal Guard of Knights.” He nodded politely. “I keep the peace here, and I'm asking you to desist or I _will_ discipline you.”

Yuri blinked at him. Otabek was the real deal, wasn't he.

“F-fine.” The man glowered at Yuri, and the fairy could smell his resentment in the air. Anger, jealousy, and—want. The blond shivered as the merchant stormed off, and Otabek turned to him.

“Yuratchka, are you okay?” He asked kindly. “Do you sense anything?” He added in a low whisper, and Yuri nodded.

“I have a sinking feeling we’ll hear from him again.”

Otabek offered him a reassuring smile. “I told you. I promise I'll protect you.”

Yuri blushed, and lowered his head. “I don't need protecting. I can take care of myself.”

Otabek’s hand was on his head, warm and familiar, and Yuri found himself leaning into Otabek’s touch. “I know.” He said, much to his surprise. “But let me protect you anyway.”

The fairy numbly nodded, and the knight strode off.

Damn that man, Yuri thought, as he clutched his chest, his heart thundering loudly in his ears. Damn him, and his handsome face, and kind heart and _stupid_ human self.

Damn him to hell, for putting this damned spell on him.

He knew what this was. He _hated_ that he knew what this was.

As he watched Otabek help a young woman unload lumber from a cart, Yuri couldn't take his eyes off the knight as he worked tirelessly.

He had fallen in love.

 _Damn_ it.

* * *

Later that evening, while Yuri was walking alongside Otabek back home, bags of goods given to them by the townspeople in their arms, the bandits struck.

There was a single, piercing shriek, and then raucous laughter, and Yuri’s blood ran cold in his veins.

Otabek’s eyes widened, and he whistled once, high and piercing in the still air, and Yuri winced as Otabek unceremoniously shoved his bag into his arms. “Get inside, quickly. Don't get out for anyone, unless it's Nikolai.” He told him hurriedly, as the thunderous hooves of his horse shook the ground as it galloped towards them. “Hide. Don't try anything stupid.”

“Beka—” Yuri began, but Otabek patted his cheek once, and swiftly mounted his horse.

“I'll be back.” He promised. “I'll always come back for you.”

Yuri gaped at him as he left, charging towards the ruckus as he saw the beginnings of a fire, but Yuri quickly shook his head, and ran the rest of the way home. He shoved the bags into the tiny pantry, mentally promising to fix them later, and then promptly forgetting them at the sound of hasty knocks on the door.

“Yuratchka! Yuratchka!” Nikolai’s panicked shouts from outside shook the door with his knocks. “Are you here? Beka is—”

“He's outside,” Yuri threw the door open to see the old man looking frightened, several of the village children behind him. The fairy’s eyes widened, and he stepped aside. “Get in, hurry.” He ushered them all inside, and he slammed the door shut behind Nikolai as he entered last.

“I'm so glad you're alright, Yuratchka,” Nikolai cupped the fairy’s face in his hands. “The rest of the young men of the town are doing their best to help Beka, but of all of us, only Beka can truly fight.”

Yuri bit his lip.

It wasn't just Otabek, he knew.

 _He_ could fight, too.

“I'll go.” He said firmly, and Nikolai shook his head.

“No—please, I beg you—”

Yuri leant forward to hug the old man, kissing his temple tenderly.

“I'll be alright.” He said, “I promise. Please take care of the children.”

Nikolai looked at him with watery eyes as he pulled away, but he offered the old man a sincere smile. “I swear it on the spirits. I'll come back, and I'll come back with Beka, and we'll both be okay.”

“Please.” Nikolai nodded, and Yuri pulled up Otabek’s cloak like a hood.

“Children, listen to _dedushka_ Nikolai, alright?” He snapped at them. “I'm heading out.”

He hurried outside the door in time to watch their neighbour’s house catch on fire.

* * *

He _had_ to fight with all he had. This wasn't just for King Leroy, or his town anymore—

It was for Yuri, too, and the secret he kept.

“So we heard there was a pretty little fairy being kept over yonder,” one of the men, still unfortunately unscathed, snarled as they crowded around Otabek, who was panting slightly as he turned in a careful circle to make sure none of them would jump him. “And we kinda want it.”

“There's no fairy here.” Otabek replied, whirling around in time to catch one of the men charging at him on his sword, running his gut through. He dropped like a stone to the ground.

“Just like a monster.” The same man continued. Maybe he was the leader. “King Leroy keeps his grunts well-trained.”

Otabek stepped to the side to avoid another attack, but it earned him a punch to his face from another person coming up to attack him. He felt his lip split, blood trickling down his chin, and his other injuries complain at his exertion, but he grit his teeth and turned around to ram the side of his blade into the bandit’s side. He fell like a stone, too.

“Look, just give us the fairy and we'll go. Not a big deal. Don't you know how _valuable_ fairies are?”

Priceless, Otabek thought, remembering Yuri’s smile as another blow hit his side. He let out a choked gasp of pain as he doubled over.

“Hair, that when cut, turns to gold or silver. Tears that turn into diamonds. Blood that can make flowers grow. Lips, that heal virtually anything.”

Yuri was worth more than that.

“I'm telling you, there is no fairy here.” A crash from somewhere behind him, but he didn't worry. He had managed to trap himself with the bandits in a ring of fire, and he knew the townspeople wouldn't dare cross the barrier he made. They were still safe.

 _Yuri_ was still safe.

“And I'm telling you there _is_.” The bandits encircled him slowly again, and Otabek kept a wary eye on them. There were only the four of them now, barring the annoying one still talking, but he knew if they all jumped him he wouldn't be able to fight them off. Not with all his injuries now. “According to my employer, he's this pretty little blond thing, always wears a cloak, and, oh—you told him hands-off, didn't you?”

Otabek’s eyes widened.

He remembered the merchant. Yuri’s discomfort, his worried words.

_“I have a sinking feeling we’ll hear from him again.”_

“That bastard,” was all he managed, when the four jumped him. Otabek winced, squeezing his eyes shut as he prepared for impact, only to realise nothing had happened. He jolted, standing upright despite his injuries, and his eyes widened in shock to see that the four men had been impaled on sharp, sharp roots that had emerged suddenly from the ground.

He _knew_ who could have done this.

“Yura—”

There was a flutter of wings, and Yuri landed heavily in front of Otabek, holding out his hand and glowering sharply at the shaking man in front of him, the last of the bandits that had attacked the small town. Gone was Otabek’s cloak, his membranous wings that shimmered silver now spread wide and glowing _gold_ in the raging fire around them.

Here, isolated with Otabek and the dead in a ring of fire, Yuri could be his true self once again.

“You will all pay for disrupting the peace I guard,” he snarled, his voice taking on a horrific, otherworldly echo as he spoke, and Otabek could see a dark stain spread on the trembling bandit’s pants. “It was not the knight you should have worried about.”

“Fairy—”

“It was _me_.”

There was a single, horrifying split second where there was a brief moment’s pause, and suddenly a fifth root sprung out of the ground from behind the man, stabbing him right through the heart.

“Your blood is disgusting.” Yuri hissed, and he turned to let Otabek see the look that had crossed his face. His delicate features warped at his mouth, where his teeth had sharpened into terrifying points, blood dripping from them. His eyes, still the colour of cut glass, were thinned into slits, reminding Otabek of cats, and despite the frightening appearance Yuri had—

He still looked so beautiful. Powerful. A stronger soldier than he could ever be.

“Fairies aren't beautiful.” Yuri said quietly, his eyes returning to its normal shape, welling up with tears. “We are monsters who pretend that we are beautiful. Soldiers that can kill far more cruelly than any human could.”

Yuri didn't want to know why he was crying.

(Oh, but he did. Otabek would never love him now. Not like this.)

“I brought this to your home. I ruined your peace. If you hate me now, Beka, set me free.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the preview!
> 
> Leroy had always believed in the spirits. Many miracle stories came from those lands with the deepest roots in the lore, and he himself grew up with devout parents to certain spirits that governed certain seasons. He had never seen a fairy before, but he had heard they were beautiful, ethereal in the way they moved, in the way they are, and if he was asked to describe a fairy, he would have replied:
> 
> “Lord Victor Nikiforov.” He breathed, coming to a stop before the doors of the throne room to find the man standing just beyond it, smiling at him with that mysterious way that had him wondering if Victor could read his mind.
> 
> “Katsuki, Your Majesty.” Victor corrected him gently, and bowed his head. “It seems my husband has yet to arrive, with the way you are surprised to see me.”
> 
> The Katsukis owned a large spot of land just between the North and Leroy’s southern kingdom, and while many rumours had it that they served the North, Leroy had found both moguls reporting to his court. Usually, it was the patriarch of the House, Yuuri Katsuki, who met with Leroy, and only on rare circumstances did he ever meet with the mysterious man Yuuri had married. 
> 
> And now Victor was here before his husband was and there was grave news from Mila’s band of soldiers. 
> 
> He knew better than to call people bad things, but the appearance of Lord Victor was a bad omen.
> 
> “I haven’t seen him yet.” He shook his head. “If you'll excuse me, please.”
> 
> “Oh, of course.” Victor smiled at him, still neutral as ever, and Leroy pushed his nerves to the back of his mind to enter the throne room. All the people inside rose to their feet upon his entry, and only settled down again when he settled down on his throne. From the corner of his eye he spotted Victor weaving through the crowd to meet up with his husband, their hands lacing together underneath the throng of people, and Leroy tore his eyes away from them.
> 
> His hand twitched, and it felt far too empty. He clenched it tightly, knuckles turning white. 
> 
> “What has happened?”


	8. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I could put a curse on you.” His voice was vicious, venom dripping from words that made flowers blossom, and the knight shook his head.
> 
> “You would not.” He replied, gently taking a lock of long, golden hair that had slipped down from Yuri’s back and over his shoulder, and pressed a kiss to it. “I trust you won’t.”
> 
> Brilliant, brilliant eyes of glass thinned into slits at him.
> 
> “Why?” he snarled.
> 
> “Because you are better than this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmMMMMMMMmmMMmmmMMMMMBOI HERE IT COMES,, , , THE CHAPTER Y'ALL HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR the kees kees chapter heheheh smoochie baby anYWAY for those who are already familiar with how I write, things can only go downhill from here.
> 
> Or uphill. It really depends on the person reading, y'know? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) someone's gotta fuck up sometime soon. 
> 
> Anyway!!! Thank you all so much for continually reading and commenting. They mean a lot to me, hihi.

“I can't.”

Yuri’s eyes widened, as Otabek straightened up. He couldn't bring himself to move, the knight pinning him into place with the determination in his piercing gaze.

“Yuri, I can't.” He grasped the fairy’s arms gently, and wiped away the trickle of blood down Yuri’s chin. “I think I know why the ring won't come off.”

Yuri’s eyes shone with something more than the embers around them.

“I think I do, too.”

There was a hiss behind them, and they whirled around to see the townsfolk had burst into their secluded little spot, having put out some of the fire surrounding them. Yuri’s eyes widened, and he got ready to fly away, when Otabek pulled him close to himself, hiding him from the rest of the townsfolk coming in.

“Beka! Yuratchka! Are you both al—”

“Yuri’s injured,” Otabek barked, and Yuri jolted, blinking up at him. “I need to get him home.”

“O-of course,” someone stammered, and Otabek swept Yuri up into his arms, painfully pinning his wings between his body and Otabek’s arms. The fairy let out a gasp of pain. “A-and hurry, Beka!”

“Make way, make way, please,” Otabek panted, hurrying past everyone as he carried Yuri away. The fairy weakly gripped Otabek’s shoulder guards, painfully digging into his own shoulder covered only by Otabek’s old threadbare clothes, wincing as he felt the knight’s pain permeate the air.

He was bleeding inside. Bruises everywhere. A burn on his right arm. Perhaps a fractured bone, and yet Otabek said nothing about his injuries until he burst into their home to find Nikolai still inside, looking worried.

“Beka! Yuratchka!” He gasped, as Otabek set Yuri down onto his bed. “What's—”

“Please, some privacy,” Otabek panted, but he met eyes with Yuri, bright cut glass meeting with dark shadows as he slumped over the panicked blond. “I… I can take care of Yuri myself.”

Nikolai looked nervous, but he obeyed, quickly leaving their house, shutting the door behind him. The moment it clicked shut, Otabek slumped down on top of Yuri, panting heavily.

“You're… the one that's injured.” Yuri said weakly, and Otabek laughed tiredly.

“I can't worry them about me. They're counting on me.” He struggled to get up, but Yuri shook his head and pulled him onto the bed with him. Otabek went surprisingly easily, thanks to his fatigue and weakened state, but he still managed to protest. “Yuratchka, I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” Yuri replied softly, ghosting his thumb over the cut on Otabek’s lip. “But let me take care of you anyway.”

The knight’s gaze softened on him, and he settled down onto the bed, as Yuri rolled aside to straddle him, lowering his head to bring their faces together, closer.

“You heard from the bandit, right,” he murmured softly. “What fairies can do.”

“They can make you rich.” Otabek replied, frank and steadfast as he always was.

Yuri flinched.

“They can lead you to madness.”

Otabek cupped his hand over Yuri’s cheek.

“They can bewitch you, and you would be completely willing.” He said with a smile, and he thumbed at the single tear that rolled down the blond’s cheek.

“Don't—don't say things like that.” Yuri bit back.

“I think you're enchanting, Yuratchka.” He continued quietly. “And no matter what you are, you are beautiful and strong in my eyes.”

 _That_ seemed to snap something in Yuri’s mind. Disbelief flashed across his eyes, angry and red.

“I could put a curse on you.” His voice was vicious, venom dripping from words that made flowers blossom, and the knight shook his head.

“You would not.” He replied, gently taking a lock of long, golden hair that had slipped down from Yuri’s back and over his shoulder, and pressed a kiss to it. “I trust you won’t.”

Brilliant, brilliant eyes of glass thinned into slits at him.

“ _Why_?” he snarled.

“Because you are better than this.” Otabek leaned up to kiss Yuri’s cheek, and the fairy’s eyes widened at him as he pulled back, grimacing at the pain his movement brought. “And…” he managed through the pain, “You’re my Yuratchka. I would know.”

Yuri didn’t know if he meant the old or the new Yuri, and he found himself wishing it was him Otabek was talking about.

He shook, unsure, but he pulled back, away from Otabek, yet still straddling his body.

“I’m going to take your armour off.” He said shakily, and the knight nodded. Yuri, fingers inept and shaking as he worked, navigated the buckles that held Otabek’s armour closed, the metal clanging to the ground in a frightful echoing sound, but Otabek’s gaze on him held him to his work, as the last of the armour hit the ground.

Otabek had been in a hurry to pull his armour on, strapping on only the essentials on top of his normal clothes, and Yuri came face to face with the Otabek he had grown used to. The helpful village young man, an older brother, a loving son, a caring friend—

Tears welled up in his eyes, as Otabek reached forward to wipe them away.

“Yuratchka?”

“Beka,” Yuri shakily said, “I… let me help _you_ this time.”

Otabek watched him, teary-eyed, as he leant down to push his shirt up, pressing a tender kiss to his swollen side, where a bone was fractured, and the bleeding was steady underneath his muscles. He felt cold relief wash the area that felt like it was _burning_ , and Otabek realised Yuri had healed him.

_Lips, that heal virtually anything._

Yuri moved on to kiss his collarbone, and Otabek could feel his bruise there disappear. The fairy went on to kiss him everywhere he hurt, and by the end of it, he felt his strength seep back into him, and heat coiling under his skin, as Yuri straightened up again, their eyes meeting to let Otabek see the flush that had similarly crossed Yuri’s cheeks.

His lips were wet, slightly swollen and speckled with blood—Otabek’s blood, and his tears remained shining on his face. He looked down at Otabek as he straddled him properly again, and his hair tumbled over his shoulders in an elegant wave of gold.

“Two more spots,” he said quietly, and he moved forward to kiss Otabek’s cheek. The purpling bruise there healed over with a cold wave. “Here,” he murmured, and he looked right into Otabek’s eyes. “And your… mouth.”

“Yura, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Otabek’s voice came out breathless, weak from the new sensation that had washed over the both of them. Yuri seemed to have a hard time breathing, the air around them growing thick with a new sensation he had never felt before, and he felt his skin burn with it, his blood rolling under it in wave after heady wave.

“That’s the problem,” Yuri murmured, “I want to.”

He moved forward, and pressed their lips together. Otabek could feel the cool sensation of his cut healing, but he moved forward, kissing Yuri back as he sat up, pulling the blond closer to himself to deepen the kiss.

Yuri shut his eyes tightly, hesitantly wrapping his arms around Otabek’s neck as the knight kissed him over and over again, his thighs squeezing the body he recently healed with the mouth currently being attacked with attention, teeth and tongue. The human, limited as he was, needed air, and Otabek pulled away from Yuri, panting softly.

“Yuri.” He smiled softly, and Yuri felt his cheeks burn.

“Otabek.” He murmured back, and Otabek kissed him again, and again and again, and Yuri melted into his embrace.

Neither of them noticed the soft hiss of a spell breaking, and the clatter of something tumbling to the ground, rolling underneath the bed.

He remembered something like this. He remembered the haze of tears that blurred his vision, the piercing pain of winter digging its nails into his skin, his blood, tearing right into his bones.

He remembered the day he died.

The day Victor’s winter killed him.

Yuri tore himself away and slapped his hands over his mouth, gasping shakily, and Otabek jolted, concerned as he pulled the blond closer again.

“Yuri? What’s wrong?” He urgently asked, letting Yuri bury his face in the crook of his neck as the blond began to sob. Tears rolled down his cheeks and dropped off his skin as glittering diamonds that skittered across the ground, rolling under surfaces and the bed, but Otabek couldn’t care less as he held Yuri close to himself.

He remembered Otabek holding him close like this, huddled close to lingering embers of a fire long-dead, a pitiful excuse of a source of warmth, and he remembered how desperately Otabek—once a squire, in a castle town of unforgiving stone and steel—tried to save his life.

“Beka, it’s cold,” Yuri echoed his last words from a past life long-forgotten, and Otabek’s eyes widened. “Beka, it-it’s, _cold_.” He looked up at Otabek, freely sobbing. “Beka. _Beka_.”

“Yuratchka,” Otabek held his shoulders. “What’s wrong? Why are you cold?”

“N-no, I,” Yuri stammered, “I _remember_.”

Those two words made something shatter and come whole in Otabek’s eyes, and they welled with tears as well.

“I remember you, the castle town, the winter— _grandpa_ ,” Yuri gasped brokenly, “Wh-why now, why did I—why did Victor—”

Otabek didn’t let him speak any more, pulling him into a hug again as sheer _relief_ flooded his chest. “Yuratchka.” He sighed into Yuri’s golden hair, “I _knew_ it. I _knew_ I’d see you again.”

Yuri clung to him, shuddering as Otabek poured out his relief on him.

“I couldn’t help you back then, I’d been so weak, I was just a child, too, and you _died_ —” Yuri cut him off with a tender kiss, and Otabek sighed as the fairy pulled away.“ _Yuratchka._ ”

“That doesn't matter now.” Yuri murmured, shaking as Otabek cupped his face in his hands. “We’re here, somehow. Together again.”

“What about Nikolai?” Otabek asked quietly, and Yuri flinched.

“He… can’t know.”

The resignation in Yuri’s voice broke his heart, and he thumbed away the liquid diamonds rolling down Yuri’s cheeks.

“And what about us?”

Yuri’s eyes met his, and Otabek felt his heart jump.

“I have a secret to tell you,” he said quietly, taking Otabek’s hands, and smoothing them over his shoulders, down towards his shoulderblades. “It’ll give you my everything, and you could use it to completely destroy me.”

“And you’ll trust me with it?”

Yuri stopped Otabek’s hands over the crook where his wings met the edge of his shoulderblades, sighing.

“Only because you’re the only person who I can trust it to.”

Otabek’s eyes widened when he felt Yuri’s wings fall into his hands, slippery like silk and softer than air, and his hand shot up so he could see that he was holding a translucent cloth, shimmering silver and delicate, easily flowing out of his hand.

“Taking my wings means taking my magic—my _freedom_ , Beka,” Yuri whispered, “Victor told me that I should never let anyone take them, unless I trust them with my life, and you…” He hugged Otabek tightly. “You mean to me more than anyone else in the world.”

Warmth fluttered in the knight’s chest, and he kissed the fairy’s temple tenderly.

“Me too,” he said softly. “I’ll keep your wings safe. But how will you do without magic?”

Yuri laughed, snorting quietly in Otabek’s ear.

“I don’t need it, not anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kissy kissy lmao ayt since i've written way far ahead ~~i'm halfway done with chapter 11, my dudes~~ i'll probably start. previewing next chapters or something. like in the anime HAHAHAHAH ayt here's a preview of chapter 8:
> 
>  
> 
> “Altin sure is taking his time, isn't he?”
> 
> King Leroy often wondered things out loud, having one-sided conversations with no one but the stone walls of the castle, but the walls have ears, and ears, no matter how inconspicuous, always listened. 
> 
> It was a habit he couldn't quite let go, too used to having Queen Isabella around to talk to, even until now, and his hopeless romantic of an adviser couldn't find it in himself to correct him. 
> 
> “Georgi.” Mila frowned at the black-haired man, who sighed fondly as Leroy walked through the garden wistfully, not too far away from his wife’s memorial. “Look at him.”
> 
> “I know,” he replied, sighing. “But I cannot break something as lovely as how much he loved her.”Mila shot him a dry look. “I've given Altin an extra week, at _your_ request. He's still not back.”
> 
> “Well, summer is back, don't you think that's enough?”
> 
> “Altin is the _captain_ of the King’s guard.” Mila snarled. “He needs to be back here. With that damn fairy, so we can _all_ sleep peacefully at night.”
> 
> “Mila—”
> 
> “You heard Master Yakov. The North is coming for King Leroy, and without Altin, we will be out of a king sooner than we'd like.” She scowled. “And I, personally, don't mind him so much? He's nice when he wants to be, and my family can go to sleep with food in their stomachs. Sure he's a bit self absorbed, but,” she stopped, and shook her head. “You've heard all this before. Jeez, Georgi, let me go after him now. __Please.”


	9. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What a wedding, Otabek thought, as he kissed Yuri again.
> 
> What a beautiful wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmMMMMmMmmmmMMMMMBOI whoo ok this was a nice fun time lmao i can't,, , , ,believe, ,, the victyuuri spinoff for this fic is, , ,, under development,,, , , ,,,,, , , it's got a spirited away/east asian mythos aesthetic,, , , ,, whoo,,, ,
> 
> anyway, thank you all for your patience and wonderful comments! please enjoy the new chapter. as usual, there's a preview for the next chapter in the end notes.

“Sir Altin sure is taking his time, isn't he?”

King Leroy often wondered things out loud, having one-sided conversations with no one but the stone walls of the castle, but the walls have ears, and ears, no matter how inconspicuous, always listened.

It was a habit he couldn't quite let go, too used to having Queen Isabella around to talk to, even until now, and his hopeless romantic of an adviser couldn't find it in himself to correct him.

“Georgi.” Mila frowned at the black-haired man, who sighed as Leroy walked through the garden wistfully, not too far away from his wife’s memorial. “Look at him.”

“I know,” he replied, sighing. “But I cannot break something as lovely as how much he loved her.”

Mila shot him a dry look. “I've given Altin an extra week, at _your_ request. He's still not back.”

“Well, summer is back, don't you think that's enough?”

“Altin is the _captain_ of the King’s guard.” Mila snarled. “He needs to be back here. With that damn fairy, so we can _all_ sleep peacefully at night.”

“Mila—”

“You heard Master Yakov. The North is coming for King Leroy, and without Altin, we will be out of a king sooner than we'd like.” She scowled. “And I, personally, don't mind him so much? He's nice when he wants to be, and my family can go to sleep with food in their stomachs. Sure he's a bit self absorbed, but,” she stopped, and shook her head. “You've heard all this before. Jeez, Georgi, let me go after him now. _Please_.”

The man looked at Leroy witheringly.

The king had moved to sit down by the fountain, quietly looking at the statue, and Georgi sighed.

“Go.” He said sadly, “And take some knights with you.”

Mila nodded curtly, and hurried off.

* * *

The three weeks since Yuri had come to Otabek’s home had felt like a blur, like a dream he didn’t want to wake up from, but every morning after the raid, he opened his eyes to see Yuri curled up in his arms, blissfully asleep and it was the most gratifying thing he had ever felt. His knighting, all the success he gained as a member—as _captain_ —of the King’s most elite group of soldiers, was _nothing_ compared to having his best friend back in his arms like this.

No, not best friend. He and Yuri had been through too much to be simply _friends_.

The town took to Yuri’s shedding of Otabek’s cloak very well—the excuse they had made was that Yuri had been nursing a particularly bad burn on his back, and now that Yuri had shed his wings, safely hidden in an old, locked jewelry box Otabek’s mother used to own, the people rejoiced that Yuri had finally recovered enough to lose Otabek’s cloak.

That, and they had noticed the change in their behaviour around each other. The comfort in their touches, the joy in their eyes, and the townsfolk remained content to watch their resident heroes—soldiers, fall further in love with each day.

Nikolai was the happiest of them all, and Yuri spent every hour away from Otabek in his company, the old man blissfully unaware he was reunited with his grandson, but still just as happy as if he had known.

Leaning on a tree just beyond Nikolai’s bakery, Otabek watched Yuri laugh brightly as he helped Nikolai around, the summer now in full swing around them. He crossed his arms, smiling, and all was right in the world. The summer was warm, kind and—most importantly—back, and life was returning to the world, any indications of winter’s old, painful wounds disappearing under the soft green of grass that grew above cold white earth. Above him, birds were singing, the sun shone kindly on his skin, and the flowers blossomed beautifully, but all he could see was Yuri, radiant and joyful, in the company of his grandfather again.

Yuri spotted Otabek through the window, and the knight jumped when the fairy called him over. He offered Nikolai and Yuri a smile as he headed inside, and the three of them spent the rest of the afternoon together.

The summer evenings were warm now, and Yuri didn’t need to cuddle with Otabek as much, but the fairy still pressed against Otabek’s side snugly as they curled up together on the bed, now consisting of the old mattress and the donated mattress piled on top of each other. They were talking about everything and nothing, and Otabek couldn’t quite remember what exactly was the last thing they talked about (cats, and getting one together, perhaps), but they had soon lulled into a comfortable silence, the sounds of crickets and buzzing insects lazy and comforting in the approaching evening. The sky was dark when Yuri suddenly spoke, their small home cloaked in familiar, safe shadows that blanketed them like a well-loved quilt.

“Beka,” Yuri suddenly said, just as Otabek was starting to fall asleep, and the knight hummed, hugging Yuri like a pillow as he settled down. “I want to show you something.”

Otabek raised his face from where he had buried it in Yuri’s neck, and the fairy smiled down at him. “Come on, follow me.”

Otabek did as he was told, letting Yuri go to let him pick up the gas lamp, and two cloaks, Otabek’s cloak, and one some of the village girls made for Yuri, suiting his lithe size. Otabek lit the gas lamp, and held it up as he followed Yuri out of their house, and together they walked into the forest once again.

“Here again?” Otabek chuckled, “I haven’t seen this forest in a while.”

Yuri offered him a shy smile, and took his hand. “Over here.”

He led Otabek down a pathway veering to the left, and after a long while of comfortably quiet walking, they came to a small lake. Otabek’s eyes widened at the sight of it, as Yuri led him to the tree nearest to the water, and ushered him to sit down next to him.

“Do you remember this lake?” He asked, handing Otabek his cloak, and the knight nodded, wrapping it around himself as Yuri did the same to his own. “It was part of a longer lake a long time ago, connecting to the creek back on the hill Victor and I used to live at.”

“Oh,” Otabek looked down at the still water, some patches still with ice, and he realised that the forest had been keeping the area cool. He shivered slightly as a cold wind blew past them, and Yuri cuddled closer to him, huddling together for warmth. “When I came here, it was to get away from the town for a while.”

“Me too.” Yuri nodded, “Aside from Grandpa’s bakery, this was my next favourite place in the village. Especially during summer.”

Otabek knew what happened here during the summer, and a smile crossed his face.

“Summer is when this lake is at its most beautiful.” He agreed, and as the sun set above them completely, orange fading to purple, to black, and Otabek blew out the small flame in their lamp as darkness descended peacefully on the forest lake.

There was a long moment of warm silence, punctuated with quiet, bated breaths of anxious excitement, and suddenly—

A spark, tiny, and white, across the lake, reflecting in the water’s surface, blinking twice.

And then, a multitude of them. Glittering, sparkling little white lights, and Yuri sighed happily.

“Fireflies.” Otabek smiled, hugging Yuri closer, one-armed, as the fairy nodded.

“And forest nymphs.” He said, and in the midst of the sparkling fireflies were warm orange lights that floated more slowly, in irregular patterns over the water and flowers.

“It’s beautiful.” the knight murmured, as around them, the forest’s glow turning into a warm, friendly orange that gently lit the dark world around them. “I… remember it looking like this when I was younger. I haven’t come back to this place in years.”

“Victor and I came here when he feels like it,” Yuri said, reaching out to let a firefly rest on his palm, before letting it flutter away. “I never realised home was _this_ close to where we lived, but I loved it here.”

A happy, buzzing sort of warmth filled Otabek’s chest. Yuri had called the town _home_.

“The nymphs never show themselves to anyone unless they’re fae, or if they trust them.” Yuri smiled up at Otabek. “They know you’re a good man.”

The knight kissed him gently. “I’m glad they think so.”

“That, and,” Yuri blushed, “I’ve come to tell them something, j-just because I couldn’t really ask Grandpa about this.”

Otabek cocked his head, and the fairy’s cheeks darkened further.

“We were talking about… marriage earlier.” He mumbled, “And remember how… in the first week I was here, people were calling me your summer bride?”

Otabek blushed at the memory. “Yes.”

“I… Grandpa doesn’t know I’m his grandson, so I couldn’t ask him, so I thought I should ask the spirits I’ve known for the longest, besides Victor.” Yuri looked away from Otabek to pointedly look at the slowly-floating orange lights atop the water. “Forest fae,” he said, “I-I want to ask, as a fellow fairy of the forest, for your consent t-to—for me, to be this noble human’s summer bride.”

Otabek’s eyes widened. “Yuratchka.”

Yuri resolutely kept his gaze away from the knight, embarrassed.

“I… I love him. As a human, and now, as a fairy. He's taken care of me so well, and I… I want to be with him. Always.”

Otabek felt his cheeks burn. Neither of them have ever said that little four letter word to each other, out loud. He never thought they needed to, but now that he heard it, out loud like this, he realised how wrong he was.

He needed it like air.

“I love you too, Yuri.” He murmured, and the fairy’s ears, now rounded like a human’s, flushed pink. He kissed the tip of one, and Yuri shivered delightedly as a particularly large orange glow headed towards them. The both of them fell silent as the forest nymph approached them, whispering a language long-dead, foreign and ethereal in Otabek’s ears.

Yuri understood it perfectly, and tears welled up in his eyes.

“Thank you.” He choked, and the glow pressed a kiss to his forehead, before drifting towards Otabek. The knight nodded at it courteously, before it approached him to kiss his forehead too. He felt warmth blossom in his chest, as Yuri snuggled closer to him. The glow flew sedately away, back to its comrades that have now gathered at the middle of the lake, and together they began to dance.

“What happened?” Otabek asked, his voice a low murmur as he watched the nymphs’ dance, and Yuri sighed happily.

“They consented, and they've married us.”

A fairy wedding. Otabek’s eyes widened in realisation, as the nymphs approached them to dance in a circle around them. It was nice and sweet and simple, he thought, smiling at the nymphs as they sang a song, wispy and whispering into their ears, lyrical and beautiful. He didn't understand them, but he nodded all the same, chuckling softly when a group of nymphs rested a crown of flowers atop his head.

“To the groom,” Yuri said softly, and Otabek looked down at him to see him smiling fondly at him, eyes so full of love.

The nymphs put a crown atop Yuri’s head, too, and Otabek laughed softly, brushing a lock of Yuri’s hair aside behind his ear before cupping his hand over Yuri’s cheek. “To the bride.” He murmured, and Yuri leant into his touch.

“To our union.” He leant forward to kiss him, and Otabek met him halfway.

This was perfect, they both thought. Nothing could ever break this spell between them.

 _To our hopes and dreams,_  someone whispered in their minds, _to the trust we have in each other_.

“And to the love we share.” They said in unison as they parted, and Otabek cupped Yuri’s face in his hands, as Yuri did the same to him.

What a wedding, Otabek thought, as he kissed Yuri again.

What a beautiful wedding.

* * *

The town respected a closed-door house as much as one with the door unlocked and opened. No one came into anywhere without knocking, and while the town was tiny, with a population of a handful, no secret was let out and leaked to all. It was a town that placed trust and family above all things, and even if they did get caught, the both of them knew it was a secret all the people already knew.

Otabek only barely managed to shut the door behind him, lips locked with Yuri as they stumbled through the small house, blindly shedding each other’s clothes on the way to their bed. Their flower crowns tumbled to the ground somewhere but Yuri could care less, dragging Otabek with him down into bed, desperately kissing the knight senseless.

Married, he thought. They were _married_ now.

A summer bride no longer.

“Yuratchka,” Otabek panted, pulling away from Yuri, as the fairy looked up at him. “I…”

“Beka, I want it.” Yuri murmured, pulling him back in closer. “Give me a wedding night I won't forget.”

Otabek melted at his words, and began to kiss down the column of Yuri’s throat.

“As you wish.” He murmured against his skin, and Yuri let out a moan.

Their hands laced together on the sheets, and he found a smile crossing his lips as Otabek’s traveled lower and lower.

“I love you,” he gasped, just before Otabek reached where his desire peaked, and the knight smiled lovingly at him.

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao the happiness will end soon, just you wait
> 
> here's the preview!
> 
> Mila knew she shouldn't have brought the knights along. A long stretch of field away from the town Altin came from, they had finally done what she had been expecting them to all along. 
> 
> “Lady Babicheva!” Someone called, and Mila had only the time to turn her head when a club hit her nape, and she was out cold. 
> 
> The last thing she remembered was feeling the royal order for Altin’s capture, signed by the King himself on Georgi’s request, taken from her, and the bubbling anger inside her at her failure of a job. 
> 
> The rumours of defectors, of overzealous men seeking to get into King Leroy’s good graces at a time he was most vulnerable were true. The royal knights were the worst of them, she knew, but Altin had kept them in line. 
> 
> Now, armed with the order to apprehend him or take his fairy, the could do whatever they wanted. As she fell deep into unconsciousness, Mila thought belatedly to herself—
> 
> Altin would die, or a fairy will be brought to the court. And she had let it happen. 
> 
> Shame, she thought. Altin was such a good man. 
> 
> Betrayal wouldn't be in his vocabulary.


	10. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Altin was such a good man.
> 
> Betrayal wouldn't be in his vocabulary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmfao it sucks to be in grad school while you're mildly biploar and highly depressive but here we are, ,, , 
> 
> sorry this got delayed like. really badly? ? ????? my thesis fucked me over several times and I Hate It,,,,
> 
> anyway so the pain i promised is here haha,, , , ,please enjoy. again, the preview for the next chapter is at the end notes.

Mila knew she shouldn't have brought the knights along. A long stretch of field away from the town Altin came from, they had finally done what she had been expecting them to do all along.

“Lady Babicheva!” Someone called, and Mila had only the time to turn her head when a club hit her nape, and she was out cold.

The last thing she remembered was feeling the royal order for Altin’s capture, signed by the King himself on Georgi’s request, taken from her, and the bubbling anger inside her at her failure of a job.

The rumours of defectors, of overzealous men seeking to get into King Leroy’s good graces at a time he was most vulnerable _were_ true. The royal knights were the worst of them, she knew, but Altin had kept them in line.

Now, armed with the order to apprehend him or take his fairy, the could do whatever they wanted. As she fell deep into unconsciousness, Mila thought belatedly to herself—

Altin would die, or a fairy will be brought to the court. And she had let it happen.

Shame, she thought. Altin was such a good man.

Betrayal wouldn't be in his vocabulary.

* * *

Mornings began with the crow of a rooster, and the gentle stream of sunshine coming in through the window. When he was at home, Otabek wasn't used to waking up to the sound of screams, that was usually reserved for the battlefield, where his guard was completely up, and not only half-up like it was now.

But circumstances and fate were cruel, and Otabek knew this peace was bound to break sooner or later. He had been delaying the inevitable, falling in love with Yuri like he did, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he would pay for his sin of disobedience and betrayal.

“Beka!” His eyes shot open to the sound of a wailing mother, and he sat upright, panting to see a group of knights charging into the small town on horseback. They already had two villagers by the lapels—an old man struggling to keep up, and a young lady that he knew was the local milkmaid.

Otabek hurried out of bed, moving past the sound-asleep, exhausted Yuri to pull on his clothes. He ran out of his house, panting as he met up with the knights. “What is the meaning of this?” He demanded. “Let them go, they haven't hurt anyone!”

He barely spotted Nikolai coming out of his own house, ready to head towards him, but he threw his hand out at the old man to stop him.

The knights didn't let the townspeople go, and the one holding the milkmaid yanked at her hair. The girl let out a sob, screaming as he pulled on her hair, and from behind him, Otabek could hear her parents’ despaired cries.

“As your captain, I _order_ you to des—”

“You're no longer our captain, Altin,” the leading knight spat, and he threw down a proclamation of the King. Otabek glowered at him warily, and carefully picked the parchment up, reading it quickly.

His eyes widened. King Leroy had him _arrested_?

“So, you're coming with us,” the knight continued, and the old man choked from where he, too, had been tugged on, “Or you give us the fairy.”

“There is no fairy here.” Otabek said, voice made of steel. “Just take me instead.”

“Oh, perhaps I didn't say that right,” the leading knight snarled. “Give us the fairy, or we’ll kill all of you here. Right now.”

Otabek’s eyes widened.

“We can start with these two,” he gestured at the two hostages, and the two of them struggled in the knights’ grip. “And then we’ll burn your entire town down. No one would miss you.”

“You wouldn't.” Otabek snarled, “I’m telling you, there isn't—”

One held a sword at the milkmaid’s throat, and she began to cry. Otabek bit his lip, hard. He tasted rust on his tongue, mixing with the fear and nervousness that came with seeing a thin red line marring her skin, and Otabek’s hands balled into fists.

“But there is. Five years ago a boy named Yuri Plisetsky died of the cold weather inside the knights’ barracks next to a shivering young man.” The knight smirked, pointing his sword at Otabek’s throat. “The runt of the squires, Otabek Altin, who had snuck his little _friend_ in there in hopes of keeping him alive.”

“Beka…?” Nikolai’s voice made Otabek turn around to see the old man’s eyes wide and filling with tears. “You… you never told me this.”

“Nikolai, I—”

“But Altin _failed_. The knights found a dead boy in the barracks the next morning.” The knight continued. “And now, years later, the same boy shows himself again in his hometown, perpetually wearing a cloak, and somehow, his hometown is a hub of thriving crops and forest? Fairy.”

“He's not here.” Otabek snarled. “He's long dead.”

“Then fifty eyewitness accounts all describing the same boy means… what, _Captain Altin?_ ” His name was snarled like a curse. “Yuri Plisetsky lives again. And he is _here_. And we _will_ kill everyone here if that's what it'll take to find him.”

“You can't—”

“Ralphe.”

The knight that held the sword to the milkmaid’s throat slit her throat, and her body crumpled to the ground lifelessly. Otabek’s blood froze in his veins, as his heart leapt to his throat. Behind him his town screamed in horror.

“We have the only entrance blocked, Altin. And we'll get all of you one by one. Give us the fairy.”

Otabek felt his eyes burn. He couldn't give them Yuri. He _wouldn't._ He loved him. He would never betray him.

“You're running out of time, Altin. You're not the hero everyone thinks you are, aren't you?”

“I—”

“The other one.”

The old man wailed, and as the sword came towards him, Otabek came to his decision.

“Stop,” he barked, and the sword stopped, right before the old man’s neck. “I-I'll give you the fairy. Just—stop.”

“Beka,” Nikolai finally approached him, and Otabek looked at him apologetically as the baker held his arms. “Beka, they—you— _Yuratchka_?”

“He didn't want to hurt you.” Otabek sighed. “I'm sorry, Nikolai.” He took the old man’s hands and gently pried them off his arms. “If I don't give them Yuri, they'll kill all of you. I can't let that happen.”

“But you'd protect us, Beka. We _know_ you can—”

“I'm just a man, Nikolai.” The dark-haired knight sighed, defeated. “I can't do all of this myself.”

He pushed past Nikolai to head back to his house, where he saw Yuri had woken up, dressed in one of Otabek’s shirts as he hurried up to him, still without his wings. Still weak. Otabek could overpower him like this. “What's going on?” He asked worriedly, “Why are there soldiers here?”

“Yuratchka,” he breathed, and he leaned in to kiss Yuri, hard. The fairy squeaked softly, but tentatively kissed him back. As they parted, Yuri sighed softly, leaning into Otabek’s warmth.

“Beka?”

“I love you.”

Yuri blushed prettily. “I love you too.”

“And I'm sorry.”

Yuri’s eyes widened as Otabek suddenly pulled away, whirling him around to slam him against the wall, hand in an iron-tight grip on his wrists as he pinned them together behind him.

Just the night before, Otabek had held him as hard as this, but never this cruelly.

God, he hated this.

“Beka!” Yuri's confusion, his fear and pain rolled into a cacophony of emotion that Otabek never wanted to hear. “Wh- _why_?”

“I'm sorry. I really am. I love you, Yuratchka. Don't ever believe for a second that I don't love you.”

“T-then what are you _doing?_ Beka, _stop_ , it hurts—”

Otabek bodily dragged Yuri out of their house, frown growing deeper at the pained sounds and Yuri’s questions of why, until they came to the knights, the leader smirking wider at the sight of beautiful, beautiful Yuri, dressed simply in a knight’s old, tattered clothes.

Otabek knew the town watched them with horror, with dismay, and his heart felt like it was being torn in two.

He couldn't bear this, but he _had_ to.

“This is Yuri, a forest fairy.” He said, and Yuri’s struggle completely ceased at his words, shock crossing his face. “I've taken his wings and hidden them away, so he can't do anything dangerous to you.”

“B-Beka, you…” Yuri’s eyes widened. “I-I trusted you. Y-you…”

“I'm sorry, Yuri.” Otabek bit out bitterly. “It was you or everyone here would die. I… I couldn't let that happen.”

The leading knight got off his horse, his eyes wide at Yuri’s golden beauty. He had a half-smirk on his face as he approached them, but the blond didn't spare him a glance, not when all he could do was gape at Otabek, his heart shattered into pieces. The knight bolted heavy iron cuffs around his wrists, and tugged him back, away from Otabek, and not without shoving Otabek back away from them.

“Beautiful.” He breathed, snatching Yuri’s face to look at it. “I knew that kid would grow up pretty.”

The fairy suddenly bit at his hand, but he pulled away in time to avoid him, laughing. Yuri’s eyes narrowed into slits, as tears rolled down his face. “You humans are all the same!” He screamed, thrashing against his chains and cuffs before lunging at Otabek. “You! You lied to me and I trusted you! I thought you weren't like those other selfish, stupid humans but you _are_!” The knight hissed, clicking his tongue as he yanked Yuri back, surprised at the force Yuri could still have despite not having his wings.

Otabek flinched at his words, and lowered his head in shame.

“You're just like that human who stole Vitya from me! And I _loved_ you!” Yuri was sobbing, still trying to get to Otabek. “The spirits married us! They _trusted_ you too, and you did _this_!”

He didn't have much of a choice.

Otabek remained carefully silent.

“Altin, his wings?” The knight drawled, yanking Yuri back towards him, wrapping the chain around the sobbing fairy to keep him secure. Otabek nodded numbly, and headed back to his house to get his mother’s jewelry box. He looked down at it, hesitating, before he unlocked it, pouring out the wings that shimmered like water and flowed like air onto the ground. He watched them flow into the space under his bed, and he winced, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath to steel himself. He shut the box again, locking it, before hurrying outside with it.

“Don't open it until it's out of sight of him.” He said, resolutely keeping his eyes away from Yuri, now being pulled up to sit in front of the leading knight on his horse.

“Hand it here,” another knight said, and Otabek gave him the box.

“Nice doing business with you, Altin.” The first knight smirked, nuzzling the side of Yuri’s neck, and the fairy simply sat there numbly, eyes blank and unresponsive.

Just the night before, Otabek had done the same, and it had earned him peals of delighted laughter, and kisses so full of love and joy that it made his chest hurt. It hurt now, too, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth that he knew wouldn't go away.

“Boys.” He whistled at his men, and they all turned to leave. Otabek could hear the town heave a sigh of relief—

“Oh, wait. The old man.”

One of the knights turned back around to stab him through the chest, and there was a collective gasp of horror, before his widowed wife fell to the ground in a piercing wail of grief.

“Thanks.” The knight gave Otabek a mock salute, and the soldiers galloped out of the tiny town, at the front a captive fairy in the arms of another man, and an empty jewelry box.

The whole town watched them leave, and the moment the thunderous hooves of horses were gone, Otabek crumbled to the ground, and sobbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YUURIIIII!!! IT'S BEEN A WHILE!!!!!!!!
> 
> “Lord Katsuki.”
> 
> Yuuri gave him an apologetic smile over his shoulder.
> 
> “I know how to deal with fairies, Majesty.” he said kindly. “And there are two things you should know about this one. Firstly,” he calmly navigated his hand from the blond’s gnashing teeth, moving around easily between the bewildered knights to grasp the fairy by his shoulders, before turning him around. “His wings are missing.” 
> 
> The court burst into an uproar.
> 
> _They’ve kidnapped an innocent man!_
> 
> Leroy gaped at Yuuri. “But… he…”
> 
> The fairy had settled for glowering at Yuuri instead of his king. 
> 
> “No. This is a fairy. You would know, by looking here.” Yuuri calmly pulled down the blond’s tunic over his shoulder, and the fairy thrashed unwillingly, but then he murmured something, and the blond’s eyes widened as he froze up. 
> 
> “What did you do to him?” The soldier gasped. 
> 
> “Something you would have done if you had taken the fairy yourself.” Yuuri’s smile was bordering a _smirk_ , as he gently cupped the fairy’s cheek in his hand. His other hand gently rubbed the skin underneath the fairy’s shoulder blade. “Open wide, now.” He said sweetly, and the blond opened his mouth to reveal sharp, jagged teeth. The court reeled in shock, several of the knights backing away from the fairy, but Leroy remained in place, wide-eyed with wonder at the spectacle. “A fairy, Majesty.”
> 
> “He's beautiful.” Leroy replied intelligently.  
> 
> Still. Delicate, lithe, yet _dangerous_. The fairy remained beautiful, nonetheless. 
> 
> Yuuri nodded sagely. “I'm glad you think so, too.”


	11. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He    
>  __  
>  knew    
>    
>  the North was coming for him. He could hear when people talked, after all. He was in mourning—still was, even if Isabella left him five years ago to rest, but that didn't mean that he ceased to function as a king. 
> 
> King Jean-Jacques Leroy was depressed, not __stupid. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scREAMS so i keep forgetting this fic exists lmfao the only time i remember is when my best friend reminds me she's going to yoicon and i'm supposed to be selling this fic as a light novel. and then recently, voltron s2 showed up. priorities, man. priorities. 
> 
> oh, that's right. this might come out as a light novel print thing. Let me know if you're interested in getting one, though i've still got to figure out the logistics for international shipping. 
> 
> for those curious, it's this fic ~~actually beta'd and improved~~ , the first (or first two?) chapters of the victyuuri spinoff, _the paper fortress_ , and, for the special edition, a bonus story, _songkran_ , which features the _real_ summer fairy.
> 
> again, the preview for the next chapter is in the end notes, and please enjoy!

Travel was fast in the heat of summer, and uncomfortable, at worst. Winter had its own set of problems, but with the arrival of summer came its own set of issues King Leroy had to tackle. The return of crops rush-grown for the arrival of fall, animals coming back and causing the usual trouble, and of course—bandits. Rumours of bandits, of _soldiers_ , that only caused even more unrest than the winter decimating the population.

He _knew_ the North was coming for his kingdom. He _knew_ of the unrest there, the political tension that threatened to tear the gigantic empire apart, and he _knew_ they would be after his small, southern snowscape of a kingdom in the South. He could hear when people talked, after all. He was in mourning—still was, even if Isabella left him five years ago to rest forever, but that didn't mean that he ceased to function as a king.

King Jean-Jacques Leroy was depressed, not _stupid_.

Leroy looked down at the maps of the kingdom, searching the outskirts of the land to find weak spots in the kingdom’s defences. He knew, now that winter was gone, that pockets of land previously inaccessible thanks to the snow were now open to anyone, and he needed soldiers where the people needed them most.

Georgi was there in the room with him, alongside his other adviser, Christophe, as he pored over the maps carefully. He tried his hardest to concentrate, but it felt… odd. Odd without his Captain Altin by his side, a man intimate with the outskirts of his kingdom. The lack of his black shadow’s—Mila Babicheva’s—presence was also unsettling. She was a fast worker, and he knew it wouldn't take her _this_ long to fetch Altin from his home, successful or not in his mission to capture the fairy.

Not that it mattered much, at least to the kingdom. The summer had returned, hadn’t it?

But Leroy needed that fairy for so much more than that.

“Your Majesty, you seem distracted.” Christophe, ever the empath, sat down across his king, smiling kindly as he rested his chin on his hand daintily. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, I…” Leroy sighed and sat back. “Sir Altin and Lady Babicheva are taking a while.”

Christophe’s expression fell, and he patted Leroy’s cheek. “Perhaps there is trouble already.”

Leroy frowned at that. Trouble couldn't come any time soon. Not when his court was in shambles as it is. Across the table, Georgi’s brow furrowed, and he worried at the wood with his nails. “Lady Babicheva is the best Master Yakov can offer you, Majesty.”

“I know.” Leroy’s smile was dry. He knew her skill set, and he knew how _deadly_ she could get.

He knew. And he _needed_ her, no matter how much he didn't want blood shed.

Suddenly a herald peered into the room after a series of brief knocks, looking worse for wear.

“Herald.” Georgi said sternly, getting up. “Explain yourself.”

“Your excellency.” He nodded at the man, and turned to Leroy. “Your Majesty. Lady Babicheva’s men have returned.”

Leroy lit up. “Then Sir Altin—”

“Sans the lady herself, and Captain Altin.” The herald looked sheepish. “Apologies, but they have grave news for you, as well as a gift.”

Leroy looked at his advisors, and the both of them looked back at him, reflecting the worry he had in his eyes in their own.

“Follow me,” he told them both, and all of them swept out of the room.

* * *

Leroy had always believed in the spirits. Many miracle stories came from those lands with the deepest roots in the lore, and he himself grew up with devout parents to certain spirits that governed the seasons. He had never seen a fairy before, but he had heard they were beautiful, ethereal in the way they moved, in the way they _are_ , and if he was asked to describe a fairy, he would have replied:

“Lord Victor Nikiforov.” He breathed, coming to a stop before the doors of the throne room to find the man standing just beyond them, smiling at him with that mysterious way that had him wondering if Victor could somehow read his mind.

“Katsuki, Your Majesty.” Victor corrected him gently, and bowed his head. “It seems my husband has yet to arrive, with the way you are surprised to see me.”

The Katsukis owned a large spot of land just between the North and Leroy’s southern kingdom, and while many rumours had it that they served the North, Leroy had found both moguls reporting to his court. Usually, it was the patriarch of the House, Yuuri Katsuki, who met with Leroy, and only on rare circumstances did he ever meet with the mysterious man Yuuri had married.

And now Victor was here before his husband was and there was grave news from Mila’s band of soldiers.

He knew better than to call people bad things, but the appearance of Lord Victor could only spell a bad omen.

“I haven’t seen him yet.” He shook his head. “If you'll excuse me, please.”

“Oh, of course.” Victor smiled at him, still neutral as ever, and Leroy pushed his nerves to the back of his mind to enter the throne room. All the people inside rose to their feet upon his entry, and only settled down again when he settled down on his throne. From the corner of his eye he spotted Victor weaving through the crowd to meet up with his husband, their hands lacing together underneath the throng of people, and Leroy tore his eyes away from them.

His hand twitched, and it felt far too empty. He clenched it tightly, knuckles turning white.

“What has happened?” He said sternly, and a soldier approached him.

“Majesty.” He gave Leroy a salute, one he answered with a dismissive wave, before continuing. “Lady Babicheva’s men have returned with news.”

“The neutrality of such a term is worrying.” Christophe commented from Leroy’s right.

“It is both good and bad, Your Excellency.” The soldier bowed his head.

“Let them in.” Leroy frowned, and a small group of knights strode into the throne room, all crowded around a figure in the middle, a small, tattered sack over his head. The king’s frown deepened, as beside him he could see Georgi and Christophe share worried glances. “What is the meaning of this?” He snapped before any of them men could speak, and and all of the knights grovelled at his feet.

“Your Majesty, here we bring to you what Sir Altin could not.”

Leroy’s eyes widened as they stood, and one of them brusquely yanked the bag off their prisoner’s head. His heart shot to his gut at the sight of eyes the colour of cut glass, and smooth, short hair, cut unevenly at the ends, that glinted like spun gold. The fairy glared back at him with eyes furious like the winter he caused, and yet there was only one thing on Leroy’s mind as he slowly got up, dazedly striding over to the captured fairy.

“You’re beautiful.” He breathed, reaching out for the blond, only he snapped at him, biting at his hand that approached, and Leroy was yanked back by—of all people—Lord Yuuri Katsuki. The king’s eyes widened as the business mogul put himself between him and the fairy, and let the blond bite his hand instead. “Lord Katsuki.”

Yuuri gave him an apologetic smile over his shoulder.

“I know how to deal with fairies, Majesty.” he said kindly. “And there are two things you should know about this one. Firstly,” he calmly navigated his hand from the blond’s gnashing teeth, moving around easily between the bewildered knights to grasp the fairy by his shoulders, before turning him around. “His wings are missing.”

The court burst into an uproar.

_They’ve kidnapped an innocent man!_

Leroy gaped at Yuuri. “But… he…”

The fairy had settled for glowering at Yuuri instead of his king.

“No. This is a fairy. You would know, by looking here.” Yuuri calmly pulled down the blond’s tunic over his shoulder, and the fairy thrashed unwillingly, but then he murmured something, and the blond’s eyes widened as he froze up.

“What did you do to him?” The soldier gasped.

“Something you would have done if you had taken the fairy yourself.” Yuuri’s smile was bordering a _smirk_ , as he gently cupped the fairy’s cheek in his hand. His other hand gently rubbed the skin underneath the fairy’s shoulder blade. “Open wide, now.” He said sweetly, and the blond opened his mouth to reveal sharp, jagged teeth. The court reeled in shock, several of the knights backing away from the fairy, but Leroy remained in place, wide-eyed with wonder at the spectacle. “A fairy, Majesty.”

“He's beautiful.” Leroy replied intelligently.  

Still. Delicate, lithe, yet _dangerous_. The fairy remained beautiful, nonetheless.

Yuuri nodded sagely. “I'm glad you think so, too.”

He gently shut the fairy’s mouth, and it was like the spell over him broke. The fairy jolted again, and writhed away from Yuuri. The human let him, but his chains kept him stuck in the middle of the court.

“If I may be so bold, Your Majesty,” Yuuri bowed his head at Leroy, who only nodded. “I accuse your noble men of theft of the property of the Crown.”

Leroy blinked. “Theft?”

“Second thing I would like to point out,” Yuuri smiled, just on the edge of biting cold, and it felt like the room grew grew colder. “Is that fairies have long, beautiful hair that turns into precious metal when cut. This one here makes gold.” The fairy jolted, and he began to nod furiously. “And it looks like you've been handed damaged goods, Your Majesty.”

Leroy’s eyes widened, and he thoughtlessly stepped forward to pull the fairy away from all the others in the room. He felt the blond stiffen up in his hold, and his frown deepened.

“Did you, or did you not, hurt this being in any way?” He snarled at the knights, as Yuuri bowed respectfully and backed away. When he was met with no response, his scowl deepened. “ _Answer me_!”

“Y-Your Majesty, we did what we had to. L-Lady Babicheva, she fought with Sir Altin to the bitter end, when he refused to come with us. We had to take the fairy from him forcefully, and—”

The mention of his captain’s name made the fairy jolt, and Leroy saw the blond shake his head. His eyes narrowed at them.

“You're lying.” He hissed.

“Your Majesty, I assure you, we didn't mean to harm the fairy, Altin just wouldn't let go, so Lady Babicheva had to kill him—”

 _That_ seemed to make the fairy _really_ squirm, fury clear in his eyes, and Leroy pulled him to stand behind him, safely away from the humans that harmed him.

“Lord Katsuki.”

“Majesty.”

Yuuri smiles at him the same way his husband does, he realised.

“Is there anything else wrong with the fairy?”

“He can't speak. Someone probably put a talisman on him.”

Leroy looked down at the fairy behind him, and the blond looked up at him. Their eyes met, and somewhere in the depths of his cut-glass eyes, something shattered, and became whole again. The fairy mouthed a name.

“ _Beka_.”

Beka? Leroy didn't know any Beka, but he could see the pain in the fairy’s beautiful face. He wanted to wipe it away, to make sure that expression never showed again on such a lovely face. Leroy paused, and he shook his head. Allure, his parents had said. Fairies naturally made humans susceptible to their charming effects, and Leroy knew he had to be better than this.

“Where's the talisman?” He asked softly, pulling away from the fairy to inspect him—he was in peasant wear, tattered, threadbare cloth covering his smooth, lithe body, and he found it—a small pendant made of wood, hanging from the chains that bound the fairy’s wrists behind him. “Hold still. I won't hurt you.”

Leroy turned around to look at a soldier standing by the door. “You,” he barked, and the man squeaked. “Your sword.” He held his hand out expectantly at the knight, and he scrambled to hand his king his sword. Leroy held it securely in his hand and looked back at the fairy, who was looking back at him worriedly. He offered the blond a kind smile. “I won't hurt you.”

Leroy carefully aimed his sword at the cuffs holding the fairy, and shattered them with it. The moment the cuffs came loose, the fairy hissed at the lead knight, and lunged at him, hands ready to wrangle his throat.

“Stop it,” Yuuri said sternly, followed with an order in a language he didn't know, and Leroy held the fairy back, the blond still hissing, but mostly sedate. The king realised the fairy’s eyes had thinned into slits, and it reminded him of a cat’s. “Your Majesty—” Yuuri began, but Leroy shook his head.

“Fairy,” he said carefully, and the blond turned to look at him, still monstrous in the way his eyes burned, at the jagged teeth that disfigured his mouth, and yet Leroy thought he was beautiful. “What did they do to you?”

“They cut my hair, and they have my wings.” The blond’s voice was vicious, but brittle thanks to the softness of his voice. He was young, and to listen to him was like listening to a song. So _this_ is how a fairy sounded. “In a little jewelry box they brought with them thanks to—” he stopped himself there, and choked back a sob.

“Who caught you?” Leroy gently asked, brushing back the blond’s hair behind his ear, oddly round instead of pointed, and he felt a stab in his chest at the way the fairy flinched at his touch.

“Otabek Altin.” He said quietly. “And he gave me the name Yuri.” Yuri’s eyes met Leroy’s. “These monsters you call your soldiers killed two innocent people to get me.”

Leroy’s eyes widened. Altin. Babicheva.

Yuri’s voice took on an otherworldly echo. “I want them dead.”

Leroy didn't know if this was the fairy’s influence, or his own anger in this regard, but he simply nodded.

“As you wish.” He said. “Have them executed for treason.”

There were gasps of alarm and horror, but he didn't mind. He wrapped his arm around Yuri’s shoulders and led him along back to his quarters to the sound of screaming protests, and the rush of guards subduing the group of knights. Yuuri watched them leave, and when the doors shut behind his king and the fairy, he turned to the nearest guard.

“Please have the box and Yuri’s hair retrieved.” He said politely. “I will have them returned to His Majesty personally.”

“At once, milord.” The man nodded, and Yuuri watched him leave, too, before turning to smile at his husband, watching him carefully as the throne room’s crowd steadily dwindled.

“Yuuri.” Victor said warmly, approaching him to kiss him tenderly. “Excellent show.” He murmured as he pulled away, and Yuuri laughed softly.

“You taught me all I need to know.” He held Victor’s hand, their wedding bands glinting in the low light. “Yuri, huh. The name suits him, doesn't it?”

“It does.” Victor chuckled. “He hasn't changed at all, has he?”

“No.” Yuuri chuckled. “But _ow,_ can he bite.”

Victor looked down at Yuuri’s hand, the one he wasn't holding, to see it still freely bleeding from Yuri's bite. The silver-haired man clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he lifted Yuuri’s hand to his lips.

“Naughty little springtime kitten.” He tutted, kissing his husband’s hand, and the bite marks disappeared. “Hm.” He hummed, licking Yuuri’s blood from his lips. “Someone’s satisfied.”

“He never meant to bite King Leroy.” Yuuri chuckled, watching his cuts fade into a dark, purple crescent line along his skin. A curse, put on him, but he only smiled. “The moment he saw me, he remembered.”

“Of course he would.” Victor huffed. “I'm surprised he didn't see me.”

“Well, you know fairies.” Yuuri held Victor’s hand again, and his husband pouted. “Only a single emotion at a time.”

“I'm a complicated man,” Victor whined, and Yuuri laughed.

“Of course you are.” He said warmly, pecking him on the cheek. “Come on. King Leroy still needs a fairy consultant.”

Victor resolutely continued pouting, but let Yuuri pull him along after their king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter preview~
> 
> Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, they always said. 
> 
> If that was true, then the lord of Hell himself would pale in comparison to the anger of Lady Mila Babicheva after betrayal and failure. 
> 
> The redhead woman woke up in a barn, tied up with mediocre ropes and even more inept knots she immediately decimated in her rage, getting up on her feet. She glowered around the area, barely even flinching when someone screamed at her sudden appearance, dishevelled and dressed in under armour leathers. 
> 
> “You,” she snarled at the barn girl and her little brother, cowering together near the door. “Get me a horse and the sturdiest axe you have. You will be reimbursed under the authority of Lord Yakov Feltsman, minister to King Jean-Jacques Leroy.”
> 
> The two children gaped at her, and Mila felt her leathers falling apart, now lacking the armour holding them together. She fought the blush on her cheeks. 
> 
> “And a change of clothes.” She added, a little more sheepishly this time. “Quickly. I am on a mission.”
> 
> Two hours later, in a rather ratty dress and with a stomach full of homemade borscht, Mila stormed away from the tiny burg in the middle of nowhere to the sound of cheering. 
> 
> She tried hard not to think of the way the two children she frightened that morning jumping up and down, waving at her delightedly. 
> 
> The horse they gave her was named Deluge, and she served her well. She reminded Mila of Altin’s horse, powerful, tall and dark, steadfast and strong, and it put a smirk on her face. 
> 
> When she meets him, she thought. He was going to get the fist to the face the bastard truly deserved. One as hard as the bruise at the back of her head throbbed. 
> 
> And then maybe she’ll kiss him, for god knows what reason, and then drag his sorry ass back to Leroy’s court, kicking and screaming. She had a mission to fulfil, and she was going to see to it to the bitter end.
> 
> “This stupid fairy better be worth it,” she mumbled darkly. “Or I really am going to kill Altin.”


	12. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, they always said. 
> 
> If that was true, then the lord of Hell himself would pale in comparison to the anger of Lady Mila Babicheva after betrayal and failure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> orAYT SO A LOT OF THINGS HAPPENED IN THE TIME BETWEEN THE LAST CHAPTER AND THIS ONE? ?? ? ?
> 
> firstly, VLD S2 happened so I watched that, got back into the fandom only to promptly leave lol 
> 
> secondly, there was my thesis, and original novel, that i personally prioritised over this fic
> 
> thirdly, there was portal 2 (for some _fuckin_ reason) that dragged me back to Mistake Orb Hell ~~lmao joke it was portal stories: mel since i'd only recently discovered it~~ and there will be a portal fic from me... soon. for those who are into that lol
> 
> and then now, after 4cc, skating memes and other things, I finally managed to completely finish writing the AO3 edition of the summer bride. With the PH YOIcon coming soon, I decided to finish it—and fast, lol—so i could edit, rewrite and sell it at YOIcon as a printed light novel. 
> 
> so there. i'm done explaining myself, y'all came here for the chapter, not me rambling hahaha,,,,,,,,,,,
> 
> enjoy

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, they always said.

If that was true, then the lord of Hell himself would pale in comparison to the anger of Lady Mila Babicheva after betrayal and failure.

The redhead woman woke up in a barn, tied up with mediocre ropes and even more inept knots. She immediately decimated them in her rage, getting up on her feet. She glowered around the area, barely even flinching when someone screamed at her sudden appearance, dishevelled and dressed in under armour leathers.

“You,” she snarled at the barn girl and her little brother, cowering together near the door. “Get me a horse and the sturdiest axe you have. You will be reimbursed under the authority of Lord Yakov Feltsman, minister to King Jean-Jacques Leroy.”

The two children gaped at her, and Mila felt her leathers falling apart, now lacking the armour holding them together. She fought the blush on her cheeks.

“And a change of clothes.” She added, a little more sheepishly this time. “Quickly. I am on a mission.”

Two hours later, in a rather ratty dress and with a stomach full of homemade borscht, Mila stormed away from the tiny burg in the middle of nowhere to the sound of cheering.

She tried hard not to think of the way the two children she frightened that morning jumping up and down, waving at her delightedly.

The horse they gave her was named Deluge, and she took to her very nicely. The adoption had been worthwhile, she thought, the difficult, unbroken mare that no one could get to behave, and the wildcard of an assassin—a match made in heaven, if she will. She reminded Mila of Altin’s horse, powerful, tall and dark, steadfast and strong, and it put a smirk on her face.

When she meets him, she thought. He was going to get the fist to the face the bastard truly deserved. One as hard as the bruise at the back of her head throbbed.

And then maybe she’ll kiss him, for god knows what reason, and then drag his sorry ass back to Leroy’s court, kicking and screaming. She had a mission to fulfil, and she was going to see to it to the bitter end.

“This stupid fairy better be worth it,” she mumbled darkly. “Or I really am going to kill Altin.”

* * *

The raid was over, and the dead were buried, and still, Otabek had yet to come out of his house.

Nikolai looked at his shut door, and his heart broke for the young man. The revelation that the Yuri they had met was their same Yuri—now a _fairy_ , and that he and Otabek were married by the spirits themselves was already quite a shock, but now with the death of two people and the loss of Otabek’s summer bride, everything was much harder to cope with.

“Beka,” he said softly to the door. “Beka, please.”

There was no response. Nikolai sighed deeply, and left the door alone.

Inside, Otabek blankly stared at Yuri’s wings, pooled on the floor like spilled water, shimmering silver and splitting rainbows. He didn't know why he kept them, really. And now, Yuri hated him.

He'd promised he would protect Yuri. That he would love him, always.

_That he would never betray him._

Fate was a cruel, cruel mistress. Now, two innocent people were dead, Yuri was gone, and King Leroy would let traitorous moles into his court.

Mila hadn't made it to his village. They must have killed her, too, and that made Otabek’s heart sink further.

He shouldn't have held onto Yuri so hard. He shouldn't have been so foolishly desperate to have his friend back—

His _bride_ back.

Otabek buried his face in his hands. He'd done this. No amount of apologies would bring any of the peace so delicately balanced before this all went to hell and back.

He didn't even know how to get Yuri’s wings back to him. He’d doomed the fairy the moment he took them.

The knight slumped onto the hard, cold wooden floor of his tiny house, choking back his sobs as he curled up on the floor. He laid on his side, peering at the dark space underneath their— _his_ bed, and his eyes widened when he spotted something dimly shining, half-hidden between the floorboards.

He knew what that was. Very few things in his house shimmered the way it did.

Dazed, Otabek reached underneath the bed to pull out his mother’s wedding ring. He blinked at it, and his tears began anew.

The spell binding them to each other had been broken. He should have known, since that night they married.

Now, more than ever, Yuri was truly lost to him.

* * *

The sound of thundering hooves once was a relief to the townspeople. It told them their hero had returned, as he always did, but now, hooves roaring over the dirt road heading to their town was a terrible omen. Nikolai’s head shot up from where he was bent over, inspecting a broken fence. He steeled his expression, grabbing hold of a shovel as he approached the only entrance to their tiny town.

Much to his surprise, a beautiful redhead woman dressed in peasant’s wear charged in bareback on a dark horse similar to Otabek’s.

“Where is Sir Otabek Altin?” She demanded powerfully, despite her dishevelled appearance, and her hair was like fire as it tumbled around her face. “I need to find him.”

“Milady,” Nikolai approached her as the rest of the town looked on worriedly. Her horse reared back slightly, snorting furiously, but she patted her neck, and the beast obediently quietened. “The fairy is already gone. Please, terrorise us no longer.”

Her eyes widened. “No.” She breathed. “Then Altin—”

“Is alive, and he is here.” Nikolai said, defeated. “But please, he is in a delicate state, he—”

“I am Lady Mila Babicheva, Shadow of His Majesty King Jean-Jacques Leroy.” She cut him off, her expression fierce. “My mission was to bring Altin back to the King, with or without his fairy. The soldiers I was with were all traitors, and they left me to rot in a little barn in the middle of nowhere.”

She slid off the horse, stalking towards Nikolai. “ _Dedushka_ , bring me to him.” She hesitated for a moment, before sheepishly adding, “Please. The king needs him.”

Nikolai sighed tiredly. “Perhaps you can convince him to return to Yuratchka.”

Mila paused. “Yuratchka?”

“The fairy.” Nikolai offered her his hand to take. “This way, please.”

Mila gingerly took Nikolai’s hand, and she let him lead her gently to a lonely house at the edge of the town. She raised an eyebrow at it.

“The _Captain_ of the king’s royal guard lived in a place like this?” She asked, and Nikolai laughed softly.

“Beka is a humble boy.” He said, and gestured at the door. “Here is where Beka and Yuratchka lived.”

Mila looked at the door for a moment, an eyebrow raised, and she cocked her head, tapping her chin. “Were they in love?” She asked, and Nikolai blinked at her.

“Why do you ask that?”

“I know Sir Altin.” She said. “He is a noble man. He never asked for much, and he was always so very selfless. He gave everything he could.”

She glowered down at the door. “I know that if there is any force on earth that could turn a man completely upside down, it was love.”

* * *

Beyond the door, Otabek froze, and Yuri’s wings continued to flow from his shaking hands to the floor, and back to his hands, an impossible loop that drew itself around his mother’s wedding ring, now on his smallest finger.

* * *

“The Otabek Altin I knew wouldn't have taken that long to retrieve any old fairy.” Mila said. “He would have trapped it, chained it up, and dragged it back to King Leroy, kicking and screaming, all within a week.”

Nikolai’s eyes were wide at her, as she strode determinedly towards Otabek’s door.

“But it has been _weeks_. Summer has returned, sure, but he has not.” She stopped right in front of it. “Because he had fallen in _love_ and has turned into a selfish, cowardly man.”

The door flew open, revealing Otabek, dishevelled, red-eyed, and looking nothing like the prestigious knight he was.

“I did what I had to, _Lady Babicheva_.”

Mila’s smirk widened, and her fist flew at his face. It landed with a satisfying _thwack,_ and Otabek blinked at her, bewildered, as he dazedly reached up to touch his cheek.

“ _That's_ for getting us all in this big mess.” She said, before grabbing his collar and pulling him into a kiss. Otabek spluttered, pulling away, and Mila laughed. “And that's because I missed you, and I'm glad you've finally found someone nice.”

“Mila.” Otabek breathed.

She gave him a wry smile. “Let us in?” She asked, gesturing at Nikolai behind her, and Otabek nodded, standing aside to let the both of them in.

“Talk.” Mila said, sitting down heavily on Otabek’s bed as Nikolai slowly settled down on a rocking chair with Otabek’s help.

“What do you want to know?” The knight asked wearily.

There was a dangerous glint in Mila’s eyes. “ _Everything._ ”

* * *

“You're safe now.” He said, gently letting the fairy sit down on his bed, like he was a fragile glass treasure. With how precious he was, delicate-bodied and pretty-faced, he might as well have been, but Leroy knew the ferocity in Yuri’s eyes were the exact opposite of how he looked. “I'll have something better for you to wear.”

Yuri simply looked at him blankly, looking almost _sad_ , and Leroy sighed.

“Don't be sad, now. I'll protect you.” He said, rubbing his arm.

 _That_ seemed to rouse a reaction from the fairy. Yuri snorted, and pulled away from Leroy, crawling across the bed to keep away from him.

“He told me the same thing.” He said over his shoulder at him, avoiding his gaze. “And look where I am now.”

Leroy frowned, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to the fairy, and while Yuri seemed to flinch, he did little else.

“What happened to you?” He asked softly, taking Yuri’s shoulder to turn him around, and his eyes widened at the sight of tears welling up in Yuri’s eyes. “What did he do to you?”

“I loved him,” Yuri replied shakily. “And he handed me to your knights at my weakest, having taken my wings away from me.”

Leroy offered his handkerchief to the fairy to wipe his tears away, but Yuri shook his head. The fairy rubbed at his eyes angrily, and Leroy jumped to see his tears hardening into tiny diamonds, bouncing off his fingers and skittering across the floor.

The stories about fairies _were_ true. They _were_ powerful, frightening and beautiful and valuable, all at the same time.

“Yuri.” He breathed. “I won't do the same to you.”

“What can I do even if you do?” The blond replied bitterly. “I'm powerless without my wings.”

“I'll give them back to you.” Leroy said honestly, and Yuri laughed hollowly.

“I could put a curse on you.”

Leroy’s smile was just as sad, and he nodded. “And I would be glad that you did.”

Yuri jolted, blinking at him, and Leroy laughed self-deprecatingly.

“Why do you want me here?” Yuri asked warily, eyeing Leroy as the king leant back against the headboard, sighing deeply. “The summer came back, didn’t it?”

“And I’m glad it has.” Leroy replied honestly. “But I had specifically asked Sir Altin to bring you here, not just to bring the summer back.” Yuri blinked at him, and the king gingerly took Yuri’s hands. “Five years ago, my wife died from the winter.” The blond gaped at him, but he continued speaking. “She had gotten sick, and she didn’t last long enough for the medicine to reach her. The cold proved too much for her to withstand.”

Yuri’s shoulders slumped. “You…”

Leroy’s expression was pained, defeated, and so, so _tired_.

“I’d lost her that day, the same way you lost your trust in people.” He said quietly. “But I had hoped—I continued to hope in the spirits, that there would be a way, _some_ way of bringing her back to me.”

The fairy jolted. Necromancy. The art itself, Victor had expressly forbidden him to even _think_ of attempting, but here was Leroy, placing his faith in him for—for—

“And then the summer was stolen, and you had given me hope.” Leroy looked into Yuri’s eyes, and the fairy felt his cheeks burn, though he wasn’t sure if it was out of embarrassment or nervousness. “Hope, that somehow, Isabella could come back to me.”

Yuri knew how to bring the dead back to life. It was a difficult spell, one whispered into his ear by a brilliant little forest nymph on a summer night when Victor had gone off traipsing to the North. The company he kept was little, but they were ancient, much, much older than Victor or Yuri were, and they knew many a secret of time, eroded by history and forgotten by most spirits. She told him how to breathe life back into a body long-gone, and the price it took to keep the breath there.

It was a steep price to pay, but it was one he wasn’t too attached to to hold onto.

Not when he had nothing to lose.

(He’d already lost everything, anyway.)

“I know how.” He replied breathlessly, and the sheer _hope_ that flooded Leroy’s eyes made his chest hurt. “I just need my wings back, and I… I’ll…” He paused, and tried something else. “You loved her so much.”

Leroy’s smile was brittle, and he didn’t speak further on it.

“I heard fairies fall in love exactly once.” He said, not answering him, and Yuri nodded dazedly. “So you still love Sir Altin?”

The fairy flinched, but he nodded again.

“I’m sorry he hurt you.” The king sighed, turning away from Yuri. “It’s unforgivable for anyone to betray their spouse,” he peered at Yuri over his shoulder. “Much more if they are a _spirit_.”

Yuri looked down at his hands, and he clenched them into fists. “I am aware.”

“He’s committed a grave sin for hurting you, hasn’t he?” Leroy asked, and Yuri curled up on himself, sighing softly. “I’m taking that your silence means yes.”

“Yes.” Yuri replied, more to tell himself than the king, “He—his betrayal broke a vow made in front of ancient spirits, when we married. Breaking a spirit vow—”

“Means a sentence of death, right?” Leroy stood up from the bed, shoulders slumping. “Would it do anything if I asked you to spare him? He is my best soldier, and a good friend. I’d hate to see him go.”

“I can’t make any promises.” Yuri said weakly, and Leroy turned to smile at him sadly.

“It’s alright. I knew it was too much to ask, anyway.” He said. “I’m already asking you to bring back my dead wife, sparing a man sentenced to death…” he shook his head. “Even if he is your husband?”

Yuri clutched his chest, frowning. He still loved Otabek, even so. He wouldn’t be able to kill him, even if the gods themselves came down to make him.

“ _Even more so_ that he is my husband.” He said, anyway.

There was a polite knock at the door, and the king and the fairy turned to look at it as it opened.

Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov stood at the doorway, smiling knowingly. In Yuuri’s hands was a jewellery box and Victor held long, soft strands of gold. The king cleared his throat politely.

“Lord Katsuki.” He nodded at Yuuri. “Thank you for recovering them.”

“We have good and bad news.” Yuuri replied, and Leroy’s expression fell.

“The good news, please.”

Yuuri gave him a respectful nod. “We've managed to recover every last strand of Yuri’s hair.” He gestured at the gold his husband held. “These are yours, now.”

“No, they're not.” Yuri suddenly said from the bed. “Don't lie to him, pig.”

Leroy flinched, but all Yuuri did was give him a patient smile. “Unfortunate.” The mogul said, and the king cocked his head.

“What did he…”

“These strands belong to his owner—the human who caught him, or…” Yuuri sighed. “His husband.”

“Husband?”

“Your whole name, please, Yuri.” Victor said pleasantly, and Leroy turned to see the blond had started glaring at him.

“Yuri.”

“Yuri _what_ , kitten?”

Yuri bristled at Victor’s pet name. “Yuri Altin.”

Leroy’s eyes widened. Altin. He knew Yuri loved him, but they had _married_?

He shook his head, and turned back to the couple, the both of them smiling at him in that sagely way that had his skin crawling.

“The bad news?” He asked, voice quivering.

“His wings are not in the box.” Yuuri opened the jewelry box to reveal it was empty. “It's either the knights have done something with it, or Sir Altin had it with him before he died.”

Leroy’s expression fell. “But he's powerless without them.”

“Yes.” Yuuri looked at the fairy, who glowered at him. “Command me, Your Majesty.” The man said, more softly, as if apologising for everything, as he set the box and the strands of gold down on a table near the door.

“Christophe.” Leroy shakily replied. “Where is he?”

Somehow Victor had disappeared while he and Yuuri were talking, and he appeared at the doorway with the blond advisor in tow.

“Majesty.” Christophe nodded.

“Have Sir Crispino interrogate the knights before their execution.” Leroy said softly. “Learn everything you can from them.”

The blond looked worried at the expression on Leroy’s face, but he nodded. He shared one last glance with Victor, and he patted the man’s arm before hurrying away.

“Your Majesty, if I may,” Yuuri said, and Leroy flinched. Yuuri offered him a kind smile. “I want to spend a few moments with the fairy. There are some things I need to talk to him about.”

“O-of course.”

“Alone with my husband, preferably.” Yuuri continued, and Leroy looked crestfallen. “Don't worry, we won't take too long. I need to look if there are any other spells binding him.”

The old Northern spirit knowledge, Leroy realised. The North was more respectful of the fae, and more knowledgeable. They were closer with them, too, and Leroy had heard of the Katsukis’ business—a bathhouse and hot spring said to be inhabited by the spirits themselves. It was unsurprising that Yuuri would know a thing or two about them.

“I-I see.” Leroy nodded. “I'll… just…”

He made a weak gesture at the door, and Yuuri nodded.

“We'll only be a moment.” Victor cheerfully said, and ushered the king outside the door. Leroy barely protested, and when Victor shut the door in his face, he sighed deeply.

He rested his forehead against the door, and shut his eyes.

He could trust the Katsukis with what they planned to do. Yuri was in good hands. With one last glance at the shut door, he nodded, and turned on his heel to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter preview yoooo:
> 
> The moment the door shut in King Leroy’s face, Yuri untangled himself from the bed’s sheets to dart towards Victor, nails brandished. The silver-haired man simply laughed, snatching the blond’s wrist without much ado, and frost blossomed from his fingertips to freeze Yuri’s wrist over.
> 
> “Naughty, naughty.” Victor clicked his tongue, as Yuuri sighed exasperatedly. The blond struggled in Victor’s hold as he was bodily dragged back to Leroy’s bed, before Victor unceremoniously tossed him onto it. “That’s not a nice way to greet your maker.”
> 
> “You _killed_ me, you bastard,” Yuri snarled, and he glowered at Yuuri, who had begun to approach him. “And _you_ —you are as bad as him, you fairy-stealing pig.”
> 
> “Hey, now,” Yuuri said gently, “Just because I was a little… generous around the sides that one summer,” 
> 
> “I’m not hearing it!” Yuri hissed, moving away from Yuuri as he held his frozen wrist. “I remember everything, Victor—that day, I was 15, and I died in Beka’s arms while you froze us both practically solid! You _killed_ me!”
> 
> “I did what I had to,” Victor shrugged, “Now that you know that inconvenient little detail, I suppose you should know the whole thing.”
> 
> “You haven’t _told_ him?” Yuuri sighed, “ _Vitya_ ,” he began exasperatedly, but Victor hushed him. Yuuri frowned, and tried again. “Victor—”
> 
> “Hush, darling, I’m speaking,” Victor said sweetly, almost too sweetly, and Yuuri pursed his lips shut, still in a frown. “Yes, Yuri, I killed you. So I can turn you into a fairy.” He stood away from Yuri, and he crossed his arms. “The spell will only work if the caster dealt the last blow. It’s not _my_ fault—and besides. You would have died that day, with or without me.”
> 
> Yuri gaped at him, and slowly he deflated, his shoulders slumping down. 
> 
> “And now, by some serendipitous happenstance, we meet again!” Victor said cheerfully again, and he pinched the dazed Yuri’s cheek. “And you have a name now! How charming!”
> 
> “He’s not just named,” Yuuri supplied from where he stood a little closer to the door. “He’s married.”
> 
> Victor’s smile turned just a tad bit sharper, and he looked back down at Yuri.
> 
> “Speaking of which. Who married you?” he asked. “I thought I had made it clear no human was to touch you.”
> 
> “You don’t own me anymore,” Yuri hissed at him, but Victor’s eyes thinned into otherworldly slits.
> 
> “I _made_ you.”


	13. 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’s not just named,” Yuuri supplied from where he stood a little closer to the door. “He’s married.”
> 
> Victor’s smile turned just a tad bit sharper, and he looked back down at Yuri.
> 
> “Speaking of which. Who married you?” he asked. “I thought I had made it clear no human was to touch you.”
> 
> “You don’t own me anymore,” Yuri hissed at him, but Victor’s eyes thinned into otherworldly slits.
> 
> “I made you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **NOTICE: THE WHOLE STORY HAS BEEN UPDATED TO THE PRINT EDITION, SO YOU MAY WANT TO READ BACK FROM THE START ~~WHERE THERE IS A GLARING NEW CHAPTER LMFAO~~ TO FULLY READ THIS THING PROPERLY. THANK YOU VERY MUCH!**
> 
> Part of the whole-fic overhaul is me actually finishing this sunufabitch. :^))))) so, please enjoy the rest of The Summer Bride, and if you're interested in buying a physical copy, hmu!

“And then?”

“I… gave Yuri to your men, and the box that had his wings in them.”

Nikolai deflated in the rocking-chair he sat in, the wood creaking softly with his movement. He looked at Mila, who had stood up in the time Otabek was recounting his and Yuri’s story. When his sentence finished, she stopped her pacing to look at him.

“You… gave Yuri to my men.” She repeated, and Otabek nodded.

“Like I said, Mila, I did what I had to,” he continued, “They had killed two people, how could I—”

Mila suddenly whirled around and punched him in the jaw again. Otabek flew back, eyes wide with shock as his hand shot up to cup his injury, and he looked up to see her glowering down at him, her chest heaving heavily, angry like a beast ready to jump.

“And you gave him away anyway.” She snarled. “You should have fought for him.”

“Then more people would have died.” He glowered at her, but Mila did not desist.

“There are things worth fighting for, Altin, and he was your _husband_!” she yelled, furious, and Nikolai unsteadily got between the two of them.

“Beka, Lady Babicheva,” he said weakly, and the two of them quickly broke the fight to help the old man sit down again. He sighed heavily as he sat down on the bed next to Otabek, but he held on to their hands when they tried to pull them away. “Please. Don’t fight. The past is behind us, all we can do is fix the consequences of our actions.”

“How?” Otabek sighed. “Yuri hates me.”

“I’d wager.” Mila said dryly, and Nikolai deflated at her. She sighed, and tried again, for the old man’s sake. “Still, you of all people should know no fairy should be kept under lock and key against their will. That attracts all sorts of curses no one wants, and we _still_ need you with us in court.”

Otabek looked at her witheringly. “Yuri can’t curse King Leroy. I have his wings.”

“Yeah, but you gave them to—”

“I _didn’t_.” the dark-haired knight sighed exasperatedly, and got off the bed to reach under it. He pulled out four slivers of flowy, translucent silver, and Mila and Nikolai gaped at it. “I told you, I gave them the box, not the wings themselves.” He deflated, watching them flow despite the lack of wind. “I don’t know why I kept them, really.”

Nikolai smiled at him softly, and he squeezed Otabek’s shoulder. “Because, Beka, you always, _always_ come back.”

Otabek blinked at him, and the old man cupped his cheek affectionately.

“For us, and for your summer bride.” He said, and he took Otabek’s hands and wrapped them into a gentle fist around Yuri’s shimmering wings. “You are a husband to a man, a person you love.” He smiled sadly. “My _grandson_. You may not have wedded under human laws, but you still have a duty to my Yuratchka. As a friend—as a _husband_.”

“And as a knight of King Leroy’s court.” Mila said, and Otabek turned to look at her. She gave him a lopsided smile, and she crossed her arms. “You remember the rumours, Altin. The North is coming, and we’ll fall apart before it’ll arrive. My men betrayed me, and they need a captain to keep them in check.” She held out her hand at him. “King Leroy needs a captain to keep him safe.”

Otabek stared at her hand blankly, and she snorted.

“And fine, hell, Yuri needs a husband to love.” She grinned. “Come back to court with me, or I’ll drag your sorry ass there myself.”

The dark-haired knight blinked at her, and she stared back at him.

Slowly, Otabek nodded.

“As I am burdened with such a duty,” he said, and it was like his knighting all over again. He took Mila’s hand and got up. “I will face my lord, and those I swore to protect.”

“Finally.” she smirked. “Suit yourself up, Altin. We are leaving _immediately_.”

* * *

The moment the door shut in King Leroy’s face, Yuri untangled himself from the bed’s sheets to dart towards Victor, nails sharp and brandished. The silver-haired man simply laughed, snatching the blond’s wrist without much ado, and frost blossomed from his fingertips to freeze Yuri’s wrist over.

“Naughty, naughty.” Victor clicked his tongue, as Yuuri sighed exasperatedly. The blond struggled in Victor’s hold as he was bodily dragged back to Leroy’s bed, before Victor unceremoniously tossed him onto it. “That’s not a nice way to greet your maker.”

“You _killed_ me, you bastard,” Yuri snarled, and he glowered at Yuuri, who had begun to approach him. “And _you_ —you are as bad as him, you fairy-stealing pig.”

“Hey, now,” Yuuri said gently, “Just because I was a little… generous around the sides that one summer,”

“I’m not hearing it!” Yuri hissed, moving away from Yuuri as he held his frozen wrist. “I remember everything, Victor—that day, I was 15, and I died in Beka’s arms while you froze us both practically solid! You _killed_ me!”

“I did what I had to,” Victor shrugged, “Now that you know that inconvenient little detail, I suppose you should know the whole thing.”

“You haven’t _told_ him?” Yuuri sighed, “ _Vitya_ ,” he began exasperatedly, but Victor hushed him. Yuuri frowned, and tried again. “Victor—”

“Hush, darling, I’m speaking,” Victor said sweetly, almost _too_ sweetly, and Yuuri pursed his lips shut, still in a frown. “Yes, Yuri, I killed you. So I can turn you into a fairy.” He stood away from Yuri, and he crossed his arms. “The spell will only work if the caster dealt the last blow. It’s not _my_ fault—and besides. You would have died that day, with or without me.”

Yuri gaped at him, and slowly he deflated, his shoulders slumping down.

“And now, by some serendipitous happenstance, we meet again!” Victor said cheerfully again, and he pinched the dazed Yuri’s cheek. “And you have a name now! How charming!”

“He’s not just named,” Yuuri supplied from where he stood a little closer to the door. “He’s married.”

Victor’s smile turned just a tad bit sharper, and he looked back down at Yuri.

“Speaking of which. Who married you?” he asked. “I thought I had made it clear no human was to touch you.”

“You don’t own me anymore,” Yuri hissed at him, but Victor’s eyes thinned into otherworldly slits.

“I _made_ you.”

“And Otabek Altin caught me, and made me his.” Yuri snarled back at him. “He betrayed me, sure, but fairies fall in love just once their whole lives, and don't think I will stop anytime soon.”

“Victor, stop this.” Yuuri said, his breath coming out of his mouth in puffs, and only then did they realise that the room’s temperature had dropped several degrees. Victor relented, and hurried back to his husband to pull him into a warm hug.

“I’m sorry.” he said gingerly, but Yuuri shook his head. He pulled away from Victor’s embrace to head towards Yuri, who glowered at him suspiciously.

“Yuri.” He said gently. “That’s a nice name he gave you.” Yuuri smiled at him kindly, but Yuri kept glaring at him. “Listen—you’re no longer married to him, he’s dead, alright? Mila’s men had reported that she defeated him—”

“That’s _bullshit_!” Yuri screamed, and the windows vibrated dangerously. Yuuri’s eyes widened, and Victor pulled him back away from them to keep him safe. “He's not _dead_ , he's hiding away in his stupid little house we shared like the cowardly, greedy bastard he is—”

“You said the knights killed two people to get you.” Yuuri said quietly.

Yuri deflated. “... Yes. An old man who worked in the wheat fields and a milkmaid, young enough to play with the children and I, but old enough to marry.” Yuuri’s expression softened. “The dairy’s hired help liked her.”

“And you think Sir Altin giving you to the knights made him selfish?” Yuuri pressed, stepping back closer to Yuri.

“I want to.” Yuri replied shakily. “Beka betrayed me. He hurt me, tied me up himself and handed me to those _disgusting_ humans.” The blond tried to glower at Yuuri, yet all he managed to do was sob as tears rolled down his cheeks freely. “He broke my heart, Vitya. Why are humans so cruel?”

“Oh, Yuri,” Yuuri jumped when he heard Victor’s voice suddenly right next to his ear. He scooted to the side to see Victor reach for Yuri, pulling him into a hug. “Humans are cruel by nature. It is why we exist to keep them in line.”

“Just because I make you do chores, Victor—”

“ _Cruel_.” The silver-haired man dramatically shook his head, and Yuuri sighed exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. “This is why I asked the summer to stay with you, kitten. I didn't want anyone to hurt you.”

“But it's exactly that reason why Beka found me in the first place.” Yuri sniffed. “The winter— _your_ winter was killing people.”

“The price to pay for studying them.” Victor replied. “Isn't that right, Yuuri?”

The man looked ashamed. “I've asked Victor time and again to bring the summer back, myself. But he said it was with you. That evening when King Leroy asked for help, I was there.”

Yuri lifted his head to blink at him.

“I put the idea in his mind.” Yuuri confessed. “Victor and I can't leave this court now, of all times, so I needed someone to come get you instead.”

“Though it seems someone got a different idea.”

Yuuri and Yuri jumped, looking up at Victor, who had turned to glower at the door at the back of the room, the one opposite the one he shoved King Leroy out of. He barked something in a language Yuri couldn't understand, but Yuuri sure did, the human immediately getting onto his feet.

“Victor, no—”

A bitterly cold icicle suddenly stabbed through the wooden door, not too dissimilar from the roots Yuri had used to kill bandits a few weeks ago. The tip was dark red, dripping ominously as a scream rang out from the other side.

Yuuri hurried to his husband’s side, grabbing his arm. “Victor—”

“One more.” Victor’s eyes were cold ice, thinned into slits, and another surge of biting, cruel cold sliced through the air, and what sounded like another man’s heart. Yuuri’s stomach sank, as Yuri’s eyes widened in shock at Victor, who turned to smile at them, blood trickling down the corner of his lips. “Northern spies.”

Yuuri deflated, and he wiped at the corner of Victor’s mouth gingerly with a handkerchief.

Yuri gaped at them both. “Victor, but—your wings—”

“I’d found a way to use my powers without them.” Victor said cheerfully. “The North is super interesting, Yuri! Yuuri here has taught me so much about the northern spirits, they’re so much more well-loved than we are.” He sighed dramatically, leaning on Yuuri. “Come with us to the North?”

Yuri blinked at him. “What…”

Yuuri looked at Yuri apologetically, as Victor’s smile sharpened.

“Let me take you back into my care.” He said, “No more humans who’ll hurt you. It’ll just be you, me, my lovely Yuuri, and the spirits from the North! You _have_ to meet them, they’re _so_ nice, and—”

“No.”

Victor fell silent, freezing completely at the sound of Yuri’s voice, and the older fairy looked down at the blond, who was resolutely glaring up at him.

“... What was that?” He asked slowly.

“I said no.” Yuri said firmly, getting up to look Victor right in the eye, unfailing and brave. “I’m staying right here.”

Victor gaped at him. “You _what_?” He snapped. ”After what those humans did to you? After what _Altin_ did to you?”

“Yes.” Yuri snarled. “Because I found something worthwhile to do. Better than hanging around as your bullshit decoration fairy while you and the pig—” It was that _one summer_ , went Yuuri, “Go running around with your own agenda.”

Victor’s expression darkened. “The North is falling apart, contrary to popular belief. The Katsukis are the last clan capable of facing the Emperor, precisely because they have the blessing of the spirits. And they _need_ all the spirits they can get.”

“Then find someone else!” Yuri snapped at him, before jabbing a finger at Yuuri. “Or make _him_ a fairy, I don’t care!” The blond turned away from them, scoffing. “I’m not yours anymore, _Vitya_ ,” he spat. “Ever since Beka caught me—no, even before that. I had _always_ been Beka’s. Whether I liked it or not. And I _had_. Damn it, I still _do_.” He snarled. “I’m staying _right here_ because I _want_ to.”

Victor opened his mouth to speak, teeth suddenly sharp and horrific. “Yuri, you don’t _understand_ —”

“Understand _what_? This is a mess _you_ got _yourself_ into. I don’t want any of it.” Yuri shot back at him. “Now go away, or I’ll call King Leroy and tell him the two of you are spies.”

Victor glowered at him, but Yuuri suddenly said something in an old language, and the silver-haired man froze up, eyes wide as he turned to look at his husband.

“Stop it, Victor.” Yuuri said lowly. “No means no.” He held his husband’s shoulder, and smiled apologetically at Yuri. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, then.” He said, “We’ll show ourselves out.”

Yuuri carefully maneuvered Victor out of the room, and Yuri threw a pillow at it as it clicked shut.


	14. 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wind blew around them, cold and quiet, and for a long, long time they did not speak.
> 
> “I let you go twice now.” Said Otabek, after an eternity of consideration, and Yuri felt his breath stutter at the sound of his voice. “Twice, I said goodbye.”
> 
> “And twice, we came back together again.” Said Yuri, and Otabek sighed. “Once, because you caught me, and the other—”
> 
> “Because you caught me.” Their eyes met, and Yuri’s heart felt like it would shatter and swell all at the same time. “I’m sorry I betrayed you.”

“You.”

The evening painted the sky a rich aquamarine, fading into purple and then black, the sun whispering its goodbyes to the world for another day as the moon sang its silent hello. Georgi preferred to work alone in his study for the afternoons, especially if he wasn’t expecting anyone, but the sudden sound of the fairy’s voice speaking at the door made him stop. The man shivered slightly, still remembering the monstrous look the fairy had on his face earlier in the throne room, but he turned around to see Yuri standing at the doorway of his office, dressed in better clothes than the threadbare ones he came to the castle in. “Fairy.” He tried not to stammer, and it seemed to work.

“Where is Queen Isabella?”

Georgi’s eyes widened, and the blond, much to his surprise, flushed, his cheeks a pretty rose pink. Flowers blossomed from behind his ears, and it looked like he had a crown of them. The man deflated slightly—Yuri really _was_ the real deal.

“Queen Isabella.” Georgi echoed, and Yuri nodded.

“I want to see where she’s buried.” He said, slowly, and Georgi cocked his head at him.

“You know her name?”

Yuri stayed silent. Georgi sighed, and got up from his seat. “Follow me.”

* * *

Deluge and Otabek’s horse thundered down beat-up dirt paths, speeding through the countryside faster than the nimbus clouds rolling overhead. Mila and Otabek rode side-by-side, Otabek’s armour clanking loudly in stark contrast to Mila’s near-silent shuffles of her dress. The angry hooves of their horses shook the trees and the flowers around them as they rode, shocking towns and small shanties they passed as they hurtled towards the capital, the castle town’s walls coming into sight as the day rolled into night.

“Here we are,” Mila huffed, “All it took was a day’s hard ride.”

“We haven’t eaten since this morning.” Otabek said flatly, handing her a sweetbread Nikolai had packed into his bag before they left. The redhead woman took it with a soft grunt of thanks, biting into it as they slowed their horses to a trot to come up to the line of people at the gate.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Mila asked past the bread in her mouth, and Otabek shook his head.

“Nervous.” He replied simply, and rode ahead of her as the line moved onward. Mila followed after him, and when it was their turn, Otabek opened his mouth to introduce himself, but was interrupted by the guard. He lifted his torch, burning a warm orange, to squint at Otabek, but when recognition registered in his eyes, he lit up.

“Sir Altin! You’re back!”

The people in line, as well as the other guards at the station began to cheer happily, cheering for the hero that brought the summer back, and Mila rode up to his side to give him a wry grin and elbowed his ribs. Otabek looked at her witheringly, and with a cursory nod at the still-cheering soldiers, he rode off towards the castle, Mila in tow.

Inside his breastplate, Yuri’s wings remained hidden, and determination burned through the nerves fluttering in his gut.

He didn’t know how to fix Yuri’s heart, but he was sure of one thing—

He would give Yuri his wings back, and let _him_ decide what he wanted to do.

* * *

There was a commotion in the throne room.

“Your Majesty!” A herald burst into the king’s quarters, and Leroy looked up from the book he was reading, seated on an armchair next to the fireplace, flames gently flickering in a comfortable rhythm. Yuri had been missing since after he woke up from the nap he took after the Katsukis had talked to him.

“What is it?” Leroy asked calmly, setting his book down on his chair as he got up.

The herald looked out of breath, but delighted, and Leroy couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the man’s joy.

“Your Majesty, a miracle has happened.” He said, and Leroy’s eyes widened. “Lady Babicheva has returned—and she has with her Sir Altin!”

Leroy jumped, and hurried after him, bursting into the throne room to see a familiar head of red hair striding inside. His eyes widened as he came face-to-face with a smirking Mila Babicheva, dressed in a peasant’s dress, her arms akimbo as she strode in proudly.

“Lady… Babicheva.” he breathed, and she grinned back at him.

“Your Majesty.” She nodded. “I have bad news. And good news.”

Leroy deflated, laughing softly as he ran his hand through his hair. “Where have I heard that before?” He chuckled, and she cocked her head at him. “The bad news, first. I am _so_ glad to see you are safe.”

“Majesty.” Mila bowed respectfully. “There are traitors in your court. They knocked me unconscious, stole your executive order, and—”

“Stole Sir Altin’s fairy? Believe me, Lady Babicheva, I know.” Leroy laughed softly. “The fairy himself, as well as the Katsukis have already unearthed the traitors.”

Mila’s expression fell. “They… _what_?” she breathed. “But then… Altin…” She turned around to look behind her, and she jumped slightly. “Where is he.”

“That’s what has me curious.” Leroy replied. “I thought the herald had said Sir Altin has returned with you?”

Mila’s expression fell into one of anger. “He _left_. He _left_!”

* * *

Yuri sat alone by the fountain in the dark courtyard, pensively looking at the statue of the woman within it, a serene expression on her face as she sat at the edge of her own basin of water, where small springtime birds used it as a birdbath. He remembered her—Queen Isabella had married King Leroy when they were both young, and she had died five years ago, just around the same time he did. Yuri sighed softly, leaning against moss as he looked at her statue, and right underneath it was her body.

He could barely feel her down there. Yuri knew what that meant.

A body gone meant a life completely lost. The spirits—the _fairies_ —were powerful, they could sell their soul to bring the dead back to life, but they were not gods. They could not make the bones—the _ashes_ of the long-dead back into a living, breathing human being.

He shut his eyes.

“I’m sorry, King Leroy.” He said softly. “It might be impossible.”

“What might be impossible?”

A familiar voice made Yuri jolt, his eyes shooting wide open as he felt a golden chain tug at his chest, and the burn of a ring long gone from his palm strike a flame in his heart anew. He stood up abruptly, whirling around to gape at his husband standing behind him, looking at him with shame emanating from his hunched form. It smelled like hyacinths, sorrow and regret mixing with the bitterness of pain, and Yuri felt tears burn his eyes. It was dark, and for any human he would have been almost impossible to see, but Yuri didn’t need a torch’s light to see.

Otabek held himself with a knight’s stature, with posture that would have shamed nobility, but now he held himself with a lowered head, slumped shoulders, only defeat visible in places meant for victory on a decorated knight like him.

He held himself now like a servant, or a lowly peasant, begging forgiveness from a god so mercilessly harmed.

“... Beka.” Yuri breathed.

“Yuratchka.” He said softly. “I came back.”

Otabek _always_ came back. He didn’t know why he doubted him. He didn’t know why he let his husband go so damn easily, and it made every breath bleed, the shards of his heart cutting into every gasp of life he took. Even if he could, raising Queen Isabella from the dead was never worth the price he had to pay, not when Otabek was still alive.

Yuri’s eyes welled with tears. “So you did.”

The wind blew around them, cold and quiet, and for a long, long time they did not speak.

“I let you go twice now.” Said Otabek, after an eternity of consideration, and Yuri felt his breath stutter at the sound of his voice. “Twice, I said goodbye.”

“And twice, we came back together again.” Said Yuri, and Otabek sighed. “Once, because you caught me, and the other—”

“Because you caught me.” Their eyes met, and Yuri’s heart felt like it would shatter and swell all at the same time. “I’m sorry I betrayed you.”

“I know why you did.”

Yuri turned away from Otabek to look back at Queen Isabella’s grave. “King Leroy wanted me here for a reason. You didn’t let him have me for the same one.”

Otabek jolted slightly at that, and he watched Yuri sit down on the rim of the fountain of her grave. “He wanted me to bring her back to life, the same way Victor did to me.” He said, dipping his finger into the water, and flowers bloomed from his wrists and behind his ears. “And for a moment, I considered. I wanted to help him.”

“Why?” _You hate humans_ , went unsaid.

“I hated you.” Yuri’s voice held the shame he heard in his voice the night he first saw Yuri kill a man, admitting to him like a sin that fairies were not as beautiful as stories promised. “For breaking my heart. I wanted to do exactly what you didn't want me to.”

Otabek hesitated, but made no move to approach the fairy.

“I didn't know.” He replied, and Yuri’s back jolted.

“You didn't… know.” The fairy echoed, and the wind blew past them, hot, blessed summertime air, mixing with the cold front of the evening, hand in hand in a dance so sorely missed.

“Queen Isabella had been gone for a long time.” Otabek considered the fountain, sighing deeply. “Like you. I'd never considered, even then, of the dead coming to life. The spirits never spoke of it, and my mother said it was…” he hesitated, and sighed. “You would know.”

Nefariously forbidden.

Yuri knew. Somehow, he always knew.

“The dead cannot come back to life by the will of man.” They recited together, an old saying Otabek had repeated as a child, whispered to a curious little Yuri, who had asked him time and again about fairies and spirits. “The living can only die by the will of the spirits, never by man’s hand.”

The command to never kill. It was one of the mottos of the royal knights, but Otabek knew how many times men had disobeyed that law. It was no wonder why the spirits hated mankind so much.

Queen Isabella, taken by death itself, would never wake again. Not by man’s will. But by a spirit’s…

“Can you, though?” Otabek asked after a long moment of silence. “Can you really bring her back?”

“No.”

“Yuratchka—”

“I know.” The fairy cut him off. “I know now that I can’t. But I wanted to try.” He wrapped his arms around himself, and squeezed himself fearfully. “I would sell my soul for this. To make something of myself, to make a decision of my own.” Yuri took a shaking breath. “To spite you, because of what you’ve done to me.”

“Is it worth the price you’ll pay?” Otabek asked, “Would you stop if I asked you to?”

Yuri finally turned to look at him, and Otabek saw the shock in his eyes—the cat-eyes like shattered precious stones that slit into the monstrous eyes that could haunt any human’s dreams.

“You have no power over me.”

“No, I do not. Not anymore, never again.”

Otabek pulled Yuri’s wings out from behind his breastplate, and the fairy’s eyes widened. The blond stood up, gaping at him as his husband carefully approached him, gingerly holding them out at Yuri to take. His other hand tenderly cupped Yuri’s face, thumbing at his cheek warmly.

“But I’m giving you power over me.” he said, and gently put Yuri’s wings back on him, soft shimmering cloth fluttering under his hand as wisps of wind and silk, the next, fluttering transparent wings of a butterfly without scales. “I won’t blame you if you want to kill me. I won’t hold you back if you want to leave.”

Yuri blinked back at him. “Beka.”

“Yuratchka,” he sighed softly, “The spell between us, binding me to you as your owner, has long been broken.” Otabek held his hand out at Yuri, and the blond looked down to see Otabek’s mother’s wedding ring on his finger. “You’re free now.”

The fairy deflated, just slightly, as he held Otabek’s hand in his shaking one. “Broken. I’m… free.”

“Free as can be.” Otabek agreed. “If that’s not enough to convince you, here.” He handed Yuri a knife, and Yuri’s eyes widened at him as he wrapped Yuri’s hand around its handle, and pressed the tip over his heart. “Have me pay for my crime against the spirits. I didn’t just betray you that day. I betrayed the forest nymphs that married us. I betrayed Victor, for stealing you away for the summer.” He squeezed Yuri’s hand gently. “Take my life.”

Yuri’s eyes shimmered with tears. “I can’t. Beka, you can’t ask me to—”

Otabek gently cupped his face in his hand. “What other way is there to pay for my sins, then?”

Yuri looked down at their joined hands, and his hand shook. “No, Beka. I don’t want to.”

“But you _have_ to. It’s the law we all go by.” The knight said softly. “If I died by your hand, I wouldn’t mind.” He gave Yuri a sad smile, and he thumbed away at the tears that gathered at the corner of Yuri’s eyes. “If it meant the last thing I saw was your face, then I welcome my sentence wholeheartedly.”

The blond shook, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

Otabek was right. Of _course_ he was. There was nothing binding them together anymore, their vow broken when Otabek broke his heart.

“I hate you.” He said softly.

“I love you.”

Yuri plunged the knife into his chest.

There was a moment of coldness spreading through his veins, and Otabek suddenly realised the blade embedded into a golden lily that sprouted from what should have been the wound. Between their chests, a golden chain sprung taut, and both the knight and fairy gaped at each other.

“I’m still yours, Beka.” Yuri said, but his voice choked on relief, heavy like dew in the morning, and his teardrops were even larger gems of liquid crystal. “And you’re still mine.”

Otabek let out a relieved laugh escape him, and he shook his head fondly. “So I am.”

Yuri leant forward to kiss him softly, quickly, and he held his face gently. “I can’t come back with you, not anymore, because of what you’ve done.” Otabek lowered his head, but he lifted it gently to let him see a smile on his face. “I have a curse to place on you.”

The knight cocked his head at him, and Yuri laughed softly. “Every fortnight of your life, from now on, you have to come to the wilted willow in your home town, and make good on the promise you made.”

“That I would always come back?” He replied, but he was also finally smiling.

“The very same one.” Yuri chuckled. “Tell King Leroy that I couldn’t do it. Queen Isabella…” He looked at the fountain, and sighed. “Won’t be waking up any time soon.” He paused. “Or ever.”

“I understand.” Otabek nodded. “I’ll see you again?”

“We’ll see.” Yuri gave him one last kiss, and his lips lingered on his for a longer moment, their breaths mingling as the smallest traces of hesitation held Yuri back. “Beka?”

“Yuratchka.”

“I love you.”

Otabek smiled into their second kiss, as Yuri pressed his hand to Otabek’s eyes, and he sighed as closed his eyes obediently.

“I love you too.”

He opened his eyes to find an empty courtyard, and a ring absent from his finger.


	15. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> all's well that ends well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOKAY SO I SOLD THE SUMMER BRIDE AS A BOOK AT THE LATEST YOICONPH AND IT'S STILL AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE IF YOU'RE IN THE PHILIPPINES! CONTACT ME FOR DETAILS ~~and maybe strike up a, , ,,, , , commission, ,,, or smth,,, ,~~ but the details are on my Twitter, specifically [these](https://twitter.com/trickscd/status/842382466975375360) [tweets](https://twitter.com/trickscd/status/845131349933490176)!

He sat by the wilted willow tree, cushioned by soft, green grass and covered by saplings growing from the shell of the giant that sheltered him from winter for some time. The summer sun was high above his head, and gone were his armours, his leathers and weapons.

He was a simple man now, a little clumsy with fine work, comfortable with a sword and hero of a tiny, run-down village forgotten by time and immortalised in story. The Northern conflict was far behind them, the massive land ruled now by a man loved by the spirits themselves, but that was none of his concern.

He was a married man, with a duty to his beloved, and on this beautiful sunny summer day, he sat with his eyes closed, palms up and splayed on his knees to offer the spirits his humble offerings.

“Knight.”

The voice was small, gentle, and the human thought he was listening to an angel speak.

“Fairy.” He replied politely, eyes still shut, but he could feel the pull of curiosity, goading him to open his eyes. He would not lose this game, not now, not ever.

“Will you not open your eyes?”

“Not until you accept what I have to offer.” The man lifted his hands, showing the fairy his hands that bore his three gifts—a porcelain circus bear, dancing atop a colourful, hand-painted stand stood on his left hand. On his right was a bag of freshly-made piroshki, and on his left ring finger was a gleaming golden band made of the finest metal, woven in intricate infinity-loops that looked too soft to be the work of any human hand. “They are not riches, they are not priceless,”

“But they are not worthless,” the fairy replied, and the bag of piroshki was gone from his hands.

Yet he will not open his eyes, not until the last of them were gone.

“Piroshki of an old man who wished you would stop starving yourself if you forgot to eat,” the fairy chuckled, and the bear left the human’s other hand. “An amazing beast you fought off from the village to save lives that depended on you.”

“To be fair to Mila, I didn’t do that alone.” He chuckled, and the fairy laughed with him.

He lowered his hands, smiling softly as he felt lips press against his, and he opened his eyes to look into his summer bride’s eyes, mirth and warmth in them as they kissed warmly underneath the wilted willow tree.

“And my only summer groom, handsome and lovely as I know him.” He said, parting from his husband for only the slightest moment, before laughing breathlessly as Otabek pulled him into a warm, tight hug.

“Welcome home.” Yuri said, pressing their foreheads together, smiling happily. “Your summer bride has been waiting for you.”

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as for the "sequel" spinoff, the paper fortress, it's coming soon as a purchase exclusive alongside a short story for pre-order! Also includes a print artwork each!
> 
> The first five chapters will be posted here on AO3 when the story is done. In the meantime, you can look at the _other_ short story the summer bride was bundled with, [the emerald tiger](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10770717)!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> send help yoi is ending in less than two weeks I Am Not Prepared

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [the emerald tiger](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10770717) by [bukkunkun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun)




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